


In the Eye of the Dragon

by EVRyderWriter



Category: Green Hornet (TV)
Genre: 1960s, Action/Adventure, Bruce Lee - Freeform, Crime Fighting, Dark Past, Drama, Enter the dragon, Gen, Male Friendship, Matter of Life and Death, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, gung fu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 84,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4275366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EVRyderWriter/pseuds/EVRyderWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the 60s Green Hornet. A Dragon walks in the darkness, waiting to strike. Once, the Green Hornet and Kato faced the beast of Chinatown and won, decisively. Now, even Kato finds it won't be so easy this time. Draws on the episode, "The Preying Mantis" and biopic "Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story". Written with Bruce Lee's "Enter the Dragon" in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home

_"Another challenge for the Green Hornet, his aide Kato, and their rolling arsenal, the Black Beauty. On Police records a wanted criminal, Green Hornet is really Britt Reid, owner-publisher of the Daily Sentinel, his dual identity known only to his secretary and to the district attorney. And now, to protect the rights and lives of decent citizens, rides THE GREEN HORNET."_

* * *

_Thursday_

_May 2nd, 1968_

The gray gates of the state penitentiary ground open. A lone figure waited until the gears lurched to the halt to step just outside the foreboding shadows of the menacing gargoyles standing guard. A black sedan pulled forward and the front passenger door swung open. The figure's bald head bowed deeply to his chest and he wrapped his black trench coat tightly about him as he climbed into the car. The gates closed as the car pulled away. In the passenger side mirror, a fierce image of a curled black dragon appeared. The ensnared smoldering eye cast a lanced glare at the retreating entrance to hell.

Behind those gates, he'd learned a new way of living, and rebuilt his faith in himself and no one else. He learned to be a leader, a wolf among sheep. It was a process not without difficultly. But he had to come out on top. No matter what or who it took, he _needed_ to be.. Cānglóng-the Black Dragon, come home to breath fire and destruction on those who had dared to cross him. The smoldering eye closed with the memories of his defeat, only to reopen clear of any such self-loathing. The past was gone, forgotten behind those cell-block walls. The wide open expanse of Century City would greet him as a forgotten son. Long enough for him to burn it to the ground.

* * *

_Friday_

_May 3rd, 1968_

Amidst the hustle and bustle of Chinatown on a Friday morning, the well-known, well respected Golden Lotus Café was particularly busy. The kitchen was the most active, even though today, the dining area would be closed to the public. The prodigal son, Jimmy Kee, nephew-in-law-to-be of the restaurant's owner, and the new leader to the Tsoy Yen Tong, was returning home from a two year stay in China. His studies there had been the result of an extortion racket that nearly destroyed his life, the restaurant, and the Tsoy Yen Tong, all in one fail swoop. He wanted to be better prepared in business management and the ways of his traditional uncle -in-law before taking the business over himself. His fiancée, Mary Chang, was instrumental in making sure his homecoming would be a success. She planned not only today's party but also their wedding, now just a week away. Mary was also much older and wiser in the ways of the Tong and running a business in an otherwise masculine atmosphere. She had broken the mold, and certainly wasn't the frightened and helpless child she had been two years ago.

He pride in the preparations showed as she got in on the action too. At this very moment, she was hand cutting noodles for Jimmy's favorite dish. Her raven black hair was swept back off her face, but strands had fallen loose, giving her a windswept look that Kato found quite charming. Kato, normally in charge of his friend and employer, Britt Reid, had cleared the day with Reid to spend it in the presence of his other friends. While Mary and Jimmy could never know, Kato had nearly singlehandedly saved them from the extortion racket boss Duke Slate and his attempt to take over the Tong two years ago. Of course, he had been masked as the Green Hornet's partner at the time. As was Britt Reid in his alter ego, the Green Hornet.

"I see you have everything under control." He called out with a smile. Mary looked up from her work, blowing hair out of her eyes. "Kato! You made it!"

"Of course, I could not miss Jimmy's return for anything." She held up her eggy hands with a sheepish look, "Sorry, I'm a little messy. I'm almost done. Let me wash my hands and then we can talk."

"Are you sure I can't help out somewhere?"

Mary laughed, " No. We're okay. So please, go make yourself comfortable. I will bring tea."

Kato conceded to her with a shrug and a smile. He excused himself through the small sea of cooks to the closed dining area. A large banner of red and gold welcoming Jimmy home in Chinese hung from the ceiling. Traditional decorations hung throughout and a table of honor was set at the head of the restaurant. Kato pulled a chair out from a table in the corner and sat down. A moment later, Mary emerged from the kitchen with tea and two small tea cups. She smiled brightly as she poured both their teas and sat down across from Kato with a contented sigh.

"Well. What do you think?" She asked, looking around at all the decorations. "Big and grand enough?"

Kato laughed," Yes, I think so. Although, I am sure that all he will want to see is you."

Mary bowed her head, "And Uncle too, of course."

Kato sipped his tea, "Perhaps...but knowing Jimmy and how he feels about you? Your uncle is clear second." He grinned as she giggled.

" Jimmy says you never gave him your answer on whether you will stand as his best man or not. You are, aren't you?"

He toyed with his cup. "For a...newly 'traditionalized' man, he is holding a very modern wedding..." Kato flashed a devilish grin, "Whose idea was that?"

Mary flushed, "He is not so different than he was before. We were always respectful of the old ways. We just knew we needed to bridge the new ways with old ones somehow. Now we just want others to see us as a people who are ready to accept a changing word and be willing to change with it, for better or for worse. We _both_ agree on that."

Kato nodded," As do I. That is why I am so happy to see how much you and Jimmy have accomplished since Duke Slate and Lo Sing. All of Chinatown is better for it."

Mary smiled at his glowing compliment. Yet she bowed her head in a demure gesture, eyes on the table. "I sense you want to say more...but do not wish to speak ill of Jimmy. Trying to protect me, like always," she added ruefully, looking up at him through her lashes.

Kato shrugged. "I was not going to bring it up."

Mary poured more tea for both of them. "Perhaps...it would be better if we did."

"Why? What was said was said. I tend not to dwell on such things, you know that."

"But it is still there, Kato. Every time we are together, it is building between us. I do not wish for that."

"It was Jimmy who created it, not me."

"But it is true, isn't it? He wasn't spreading a malicious lie: you could do so much if you weren't with Mr. Reid anymore."

Kato pushed himself away from the table. "To me, Mary, it is...because neither you nor Jimmy know all the facts as to why I remain with Mr. Reid. Jimmy didn't even consider that."

"Kato...he was only thinking of you and your potential! You could easily open your own restaurant...or gung fu school. Anything you wanted, you could do. I believe that and so does Jimmy. He wasn't...attacking you or, or Mr. Reid. "

Kato seemed to consider this before finishing his tea and standing. He went to Mary and took her hands in his.

"Mary, I know...," he considered his words carefully, pausing before speaking again. "I know what you and Jimmy really think...about my continued stay with Mr. Reid."

He saw she was about to protest and gently cut her off, "No. Don't. You wanted to discuss this, remember? …You...think that I am continuing the old ways and the old ideas by staying on and working for Mr. Reid." He shrugged it off. "I don't believe that because I know the real reasons. They're beyond such things as race and class-petty wastes of time spent on labeling things and people when there's no real cause. _We_ created this type of atmosphere, as a whole. I can't do anything to stop that but I _can_ continue doing what I know to be right. Right now? That means I need to be with Mr. Reid. If that's not enough for you or Jimmy or whoever else wishes to judge me..."

He shrugged that off too. "I cannot help or change that either. So..." He squeezed her hands and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. "...don't worry about me. Just worry about Mr. Jimmy Kee."

She sighed, a petulant pout on her face. "Okay. Whatever you say, Mister."

" Good. I will be back later for the party with Mr. Reid and his secretary, Ms. Case."

Kato saw she was still somewhat expectant. Hopeful, even. Then remember why: "And you can tell him I will be honored to stand as his best man."

Mary was relieved. " _Thank you_!"

As Kato left, she gazed at the banner welcoming her soon to be husband home. Sheer contentment that, at last, everything was as it should be.

* * *

Britt Reid, owner/ publisher of the Daily Sentinel, had come home from a short day at the office to find the apartment empty. He remembered Kato saying he wanted to stop in at the Golden Lotus Cafe to offer his assistance in preparing for Jimmy Kee's welcome home party. He busied himself in his office, going over papers and planning the layout for the next edition. When Kato finally got in, it was well after five. They were supposed to be at the restaurant by seven.

He heard Kato head to the basement, where his private workout area, bedroom, and bath were located and got up to follow him. He descended the stairs to find Kato standing quietly in the middle of his workout space, still dressed casually in a leather jacket and jeans. His hands were in his pockets, his back to Britt.

"Kato. You alright?"

He turned his head at the sound of Britt's voice. "…Fine."

Britt folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the banister. The last time Kato got like this was after an argument with Jimmy Kee two years ago. On the night he was to accompany himself, Ms. Case and Mike Axford to a celebratory dinner at the Golden Lotus. It was in honor of the end of Duke Slate's reign of terror over the Tongs of Chinatown and the successful recuperation of Mary's uncle and the Golden Lotus Cafe.

Kato couldn't reveal the nature of his involvement in the overthrow of Duke Slate but nevertheless enjoyed seeing the refreshing air of liberation and happiness it brought to Jimmy and those around him. The Tsoy Yen Tong was free to operate as it should. Jimmy was full of ideas. His enthusiasm and will to succeed now that there was nothing in there in way to stop the progress was infectious. Naturally, he wanted his friend Kato to be part of the new wave—he was obvious leadership material. Already one of the most respected men in the Chinese community, it seemed only natural to offer Kato a position alongside him in the Tong. But Kato declined. As much as he was honored to be considered for such a position, his duty to another friend won out.

It was there that the argument began, over his state of employment with Reid. Jimmy had nothing against Reid personally, not after all the good he and his paper had done in the capturing of Duke Slate. But he did have something against the idea that Kato was stuck in servant position-perpetuating the ways Jimmy wanted to move away from.

Kato vehemently objected, arguing that it was not Jimmy's place to pass such judgment, especially when he knew next to nothing as to why Kato stayed by Reid-and not at all as a servant. When Jimmy challenged Kato to give him one good reason why he would be staying on in Reid's employ, Kato had to quietly conceded defeat and leave. Before anything more regrettable could be said.

He did not return for the dinner that night but insisted Britt should go anyway. Britt couldn't help but notice Jimmy's failure to ask about Kato's absence and made it a point that night to ask Kato about it.

Britt had found him as he found him now, quietly meditating in his private space. After a whisper-soft retelling of the argument's content, Britt stood and then sat by him in the darkness. He was equally torn and unsure how to show support any other way. Kato was filled with self-doubt and conflict. It left him in a quiet and rather lonely contemplative state that fully isolated the two from each other until Kato snapped out it. Apparently at peace once more.

The Green Hornet relationship had also suffered. Britt tried going out alone in the Black Beauty but it wasn't the same. He didn't want to see Kato that conflicted ever again. Not just for the sake of their friendship but for the fact that he knew Kato wholeheartedly disliked inner conflict of any kind.

"I see things didn't go too well at the Golden Lotus..." Britt ventured.

Kato's back was still to him. "Everything was going well until Mary brought it up again. I told her the point was beyond discussion ..."

"What did she say?" Britt broached the subject gently.

Kato turned to face him, a somber glint in his eyes, "The same: If I left you I could do whatever I wanted: open up a restaurant, my own Kung Fu school...anything. I told her I knew exactly what they think I am doing by staying here: continuing the old ways, perpetuating the old ideas..." He shrugged.

"I know that what we are doing here is right and I will not leave that. I know and you know why I stay and why I am what I am. But I can't tell them that. I cannot say I took Lo Sing down so that they could have their Tong as it should be. I can't say what role you played in everything, either. _That_ is my problem. This _need_ to explain, when I know I do not have to..." He tried to say more but his was too frustrated with himself.

Britt nodded and unfolded his arm to put a reassuring hand on Kato's shoulder.

"I could never say how much I appreciate our friendship. Sometimes, well, all the time, it's not easy holding on to the secrets we do. But if we couldn't do it, we wouldn't. It's always going to be difficult, by nature of the game. If we do it together, it'll always be that much easier."

Britt's hand fell away, "But you do know...that...if you ever did want to leave..." Kato looked at him sharply, and Britt held up a hand, "I'm just saying...if you ever did want to leave...I wouldn't stop you. I wouldn't like it but I wouldn't stop you. You know that, right?"

Kato shrugged and put on one of his crooked grins, "Of course, but... the Green Hornet has a lot of work to do still. I wouldn't want to miss that." His smile eased, "I can't leave, Britt. We're meant to do this together. As we always have. If that's not enough for others, it is for me. I'll be alright."

"Sounds good to me. Which reminds me..." Britt checked his watch. "We have a party to get to."

* * *

The Black Dragon's long trench coat swept the floor as he walked, his head downcast, into the shadows the old Buddhist temple. He understood his Tsoy Yen Tong had made this old temple a protected historical landmark of Chinatown, designated such by the Tong High Council. By day the old temple would stay untainted in all its golden glory but by night...a dragon would sleep here.

His driver appeared beside him, expectant. Black Dragon spoke to him in low, rapid-fire Chinese and the man left. Sent off on orders to gather his contacts and bring them here in the night to fully begin operations; leaving the dragon to roam his dean freely.

In the glass, he caught his reflection and paused, seeing his black dragon's eye gazing back. He felt the squeeze of power and purpose the image always elicited building in his chest. He wanted to yell out for all Chinatown to hear. Instead, he merely closed his eyes and rode the wave until it subsided. He continued to the street's end, surveying his new territory from the shadows.

Down the street, at the Golden Lotus Cafe, there was a party. He knew who it was for because he had initially considered crashing it. But that was only his past self getting the best of him. He watched in silence until he turned to reveal the Black Dragon tattoo to the moonlight. He disappearing back into the shadows to bide his time more appropriately.

* * *

Kato mingled enough to greet the people he wanted to see before returning the fringes, a cup of tea in his hand. He wore a more civilian version of the outfit he wore as the Green Hornet's partner, a traditional black top and pants but no gloves, cap or mask. He kept his eye on Britt and Ms. Case, a subconscious act. Until thunderous applause from the partygoers signaled the arrival of Jimmy Kee.

Jimmy was pulled and pushed into the dining area, the aggressive claps on the back and shoulders and handshakes evidently overwhelming him. Jimmy spotted Mary in her lovely red lily patterned dress, beaming proudly from the back of the room. His eyes continued to roam until he spotted Kato and called out to him, a hand raised in greeting. Kato met him half way and led him free from the middle of the crowd. Mary appeared at his side and they took a stand at the head of the largest table. The cheering and applause subsided. Jimmy cleared his throat to speak.

"I am...overwhelmed." He said with a small laugh. The crowd cheered once more.

"I thank you all for coming...It is beyond what Mary described. I had no idea... I am so happy to be home and see you all here. I feel completely ready now to take our community in the direction it needs to go. And I am sure with all of you behind me and Mary and our efforts, we cannot fail. Thank you!" He bowed his head in appreciation and the crowd cheered once more.

Low murmuring and chair scraping replaced the applause as people took their seats for dinner. Kato was placed beside Jimmy. He caught sight of Britt and Casey, seated towards the middle of the restaurant. Britt and Kato caught each other's eye and acknowledged each other.

"Well, Kato!" Jimmy said, as he leaned back in his chair, sounding tired. "I'm glad you could make it. I was...worried you wouldn't."

"Oh, I couldn't miss this. Tell me about your trip."

Jimmy played with his napkin, shrugging. "Eye opening. I studied more in two years than I ever thought I could in my entire life. There were times when I wanted to quit but..." He shrugged again. Kato couldn't understand the vibes he was getting from Jimmy. Not at all the jubilant and triumphant man he thought he would receive. Kato watched him fidget in his chair as the food was brought forth on steaming platters for serving. He decided to keep his gaze cool and feign complete ignorance of his friend's behavior. Jimmy put on a smile for the servers, who were friends, as they congratulated him. From the kitchen, Mary's uncle, Keye Chang, emerged. He spread his arms wide as he approached the table, accompanied by a spattering of applause. Jimmy rose to meet him, accepting his embrace warmly.

" _Jiā yán_ , my father." Jimmy whispered, emotion making anything louder than a whisper impossible. His 'father' beamed, shaking Jimmy happily by the shoulders.

" _Chǒng ér_ , my favorite son!"

Jimmy was seemingly rejoiced in his reunion with Chang but Kato saw something was definitely holding Jimmy back. Chang claimed the seat across the way from his 'favorite son'. Before he sat, he turned to face the rest of the crowd and raised his arms, seeking silence. Quiet immediately replaced the murmuring and all eyes went to the elder Chang.

"Before we truly begin, I wish to thank you all for coming to my dear Jimmy's welcome home party. I am most thankful. I also wish express my sincere gratitude for the support shown to my family and the Golden Lotus these last two years. Especially by the Tsoy Yen Tong—their efforts made it possible for Jimmy to embrace his dreams in China. The rebuilding process was more than just restoring the Lotus; it was restoring the faith in our community and in one another. I know now, we have the chance to do more than just that. That we can make a sincere difference in our community and how we see ourselves. My son Jimmy," he turned a loving eye toward him, "and the others of his generation will put us in good hands. I toast him, his lovely Mary and you all here, for sharing this journey. Thank you."

He bowed in respect to his guests and the applause rose again. Kato watched Jimmy throughout the speech and felt his nervous energy increasing. By the end, he was barely able to look at Chang, let alone clap. He suddenly leaned into Kato and whispered urgently, "I need to talk to you." Kato simply nodded and motioned with his head towards the back door. Jimmy agreed.

First Kato got up and casually picked his way towards the bathroom. He passed by Britt's table without a word and felt Britt's eyes on him. He stopped short from turning the corner and skirted in the other direction. He exited out into the fading twilight. A few moments later, Jimmy joined him, wringing his hands with a pinched face.

Kato folded his arms across his chest, waiting for Jimmy to speak.

"I didn't want to say anything. I didn't know how to say it, really..."

He shoved his hands into his suit jacket's pockets and toed the ground in resignation that he needed to do this.

"I know it's been many years but ...do you remember the dǎ zhàng of Hong Kong; the underground fights?"

Kato's folded arms tightened involuntarily across his chest. "What about them?"

Jimmy toed the ground still. He decided to take a roundabout way of explaining, hoping his nerves would steady if he kept talking, "I did what you asked me to do: I found your old master, Shīfu Yip Man. He did allow me stay at his school."

As Kato knew the old man would.

"Well, some of my tutors knew him and they would often remain after our sessions to speak with him. About...six months into my stay...I began to notice they all would stay very late. My studies often led me to stay up until early morning, so I knew they would remain almost as long. I tried to ignore it until it began to affect my schooling. Some of my tutors stopped showing up all together. I reached out to Shīfu about the situation. He wouldn't tell me anything besides that these men were very busy in their perspective fields, and that I should continue my studies in same fashion as before.

"When my tutors did show up, I felt they were not focused. At this point, I wanted to go home, angry that my time was being wasted. But then I was approached by a man named Lao Yin. He said he was affiliated with my tutors and would continue my schooling. I had no prior knowledge of him but...he claimed he had Shīfu Man's blessing. So…I trusted him..."

The way Jimmy had spoken those last words, made Kato think he regretted that decision.

"Go on, Jimmy..." Kato prompted.

Jimmy ran his hand through his hair hastily. "Yes, right...After Lao Yin took over tutoring duties, I saw very little of Shīfu Man...mainly because Lao Yin had me move out of the school, into his home..."

Kato took pause at these. "You did what?"

"What choice did I have, Kato? I would have returned home a failure, had Lao Yin not shown up. I didn't _like_ it. I didn't like _not_ seeing or hearing from Shīfu Man, either. So...so, one night, I went back to the school..."

Kato felt his hair on the back of his neck rise when Jimmy paused and looked pained to continue.

"And?"

Jimmy huffed out a breath. "...They were meeting there that night, planning."

" _Who_ were meeting? What were they planning?"

"My old tutors, prominent Hong Kong business men...a handful of government officials, some of whom I'd personally met. Lao Yin was there too. He's apparently their leader. I heard them planning, discussing the dǎ zhàng ...about bringing them back. They were going to use the school as their base."

Kato shook his head vehemently, "No. No. Shīfu would not have allowed that. He hated the dǎ zhàng. He taught us to walk away from them."

Jimmy took a shaky breath. "Kato...I, I don't think he had a choice."

"…What do you mean?"

He swallowed thickly. "...I never saw Shīfu Man again. I never heard from him. He didn't come to see me off and Lao Yin refused to answer my questions when I asked about him."

Kato felt a chill run down his spine. He found himself caught in a whirlwind of profound lost and bitterness. He was not wont to allow such emotion in such a way, ever. But Shīfu Yip Man had made an everlasting impression on Kato's life and the path he'd take that eventually led him to where he was today. He had been a father figure, a mentor, and well-respected gung fu master. No other man had shaped Kato as Shīfu Man had... Whether he was dead or a hostage somewhere or just unable to contact his people...Kato cracked his knuckles resolutely and faced Jimmy with an unmentionable gleam in his eye.

"You told no one else of this?"

"No, no one. I didn't know whom to trust. I just wanted to get out of there…those last six months were probably the most difficult, because I knew what was happening…or dreaded what I _thought_ had happened…."

"Is there more?

"I am afraid, yes. It is the other reason I needed to talk to you... besides about Shīfu Man."

Jimmy stepped closer to Kato. "That night I returned to the school, I also heard Lao Yin speak of expanding the dǎ zhàng outside of China. He spoke of an American 'agent', called the Black Dragon. He was to bring them to the US, to this city, and then to others after proving they could be profitable here."

"If they're thinking of making us a proving ground, there are other cities that have a larger Chinese population than we do that to pick fighters from."

"True...but the other cities don't have the Green Hornet or his partner. His partner is well known even to these men. They know of his fighting prowess. I have seen him fight myself. He is beyond mastery: he is almost inhuman. Better than you even, Kato."

Kato allowed himself an inward smile at that particular comment.

" This Cānglóng, the Black Dragon they spoke of...he is dangerous, mythical. Lao Yin said he could even fly. That he had black wings and brought wakes of destruction after him." Jimmy shook his head.

"I left before I overstayed my welcome, afraid that if I didn't go, I would be next—these men are far too powerful and influential… but I know what it all means, regardless: the Black Dragon is going to bring the dǎ zhàng to this city, he's going to go after the Hornet's partner and I can guarantee he's going to use him as a stepping stone to bigger and better prizes—bait to lure the bigger fishes to the pot. This will _not_ end well, I can feel it!"

Kato pondered this, his gaze drawn to the growing blanket of starpoints in the newly risen night sky.

"I'm sorry, Kato..."

His attention returned to his friend and he put a reassuring hand on Jimmy's shoulder.

"No, it's alright. So...what do you want me to do?"

"Mr. Reid has a connection with the Green Hornet, no? Through his newspaper, I mean? "

Kato shrugged uneasily, "Perhaps. Given the right reason."

"Then he must warn the Green Hornet and his partner about this! I don't know the dates of the fights, when they're supposed to begin but I know it's this week or possibly the next. I can't stop these from happening but maybe they can. They _must_ be careful, though... I'd hate to see anything happen to them..."

Kato raised an eyebrow at Jimmy's apparent allegiance to the Hornet. Jimmy saw this and shrugged, embarrassed, "The Green Hornet and his partner saved us from Lo Sing.I will always be grateful for that. Besides, you and I both know the kind of violence and greed and crime these fights bring with them. We mustn't go down that road. We can't, it'll destroy us. Will you ask Mr. Reid?"

Kato paused then nodded, "I do find it _curious_ that one minute you're telling me I need to leave Mr. Reid if I'm going to make anything of myself and the next you're having me use my relationship with him." He shook his head slowly, "Make up your mind, Jimmy."

He turned for the back door to return to the dining area but his friend pulled on his arm, "Wait, Kato...I'm sorry about what I said that night. Mary told me how much it hurt you.I understand now that you have your reasons, and they must be good ones. Why else would you be loyal to Mr. Reid? With you, I know what loyalty means. Forgive me."

Kato noted the sincerity in his voice and rebuked himself for his last comment. "Alright, Jimmy. We better get back before we're missed. I must warn you, though, that when I do tell Me. Reid about this, he may well contact the police. If he does, he will do his best to keep you out of this."

Jimmy nodded, "If that too will stop this, then I have no problems with it. But...what about Shīfu Man?"

Kato was stung again by the thought that his old master might need him, but that he too, was needed here. He thought of what Man would say about a situation like this: "Indecision breeds upon itself. You will know what must be done and when to do it." He was stilled by the vividness of his Master's voice even years later and tried to take solace in it. Yet as he grew aware of the night cooled air around them, he still he felt hot; flushed with the fire of vengeance he knew he shouldn't give in to.

"Kato?"

"…I will tend to Shīfu Man. Go on, I'll follow you." He opened the door for Jimmy and ushered him through. But he didn't follow, at least not right away. He was unwilling to return to a party he knew he would not enjoy. Britt would wonder what became of him. Why he and Jimmy left almost together and only Jimmy returned—his friend was sharp with things like that. He would ask Kato later that night, why? And that filled Kato was a new sense of conflict: did he honor the promise he made with Britt to never hold anything back or did he heed the warning bells in his head to leave Britt as far away from this as possible? Would it be honesty or deception in the name of protecting a friend? There had to be a middle ground…!

He folded his arms across his chest again, hugging himself. The twinkles of stars in the inky night sky were cold and of little consolation "… _You will know_ _what must be done and when to do it…"_

He returned to the party quietly to give his regrets. He shook Keye Chang's hand, kissed Mary on the cheek, and discreetly let Britt know he was leaving. He didn't have a chance to ask why. Kato was already gone. Unknowingly well in sight of a sleeping dragon's den….


	2. Out of the Dragon's Forge

Votive candles cast dancing shadows about the old Buddhist temple walls. A new decoration hung at the top of the staircase-a richly colored ceiling-to-floor tapestry depicting none other than curled dragon. Its eyes were aflame in a fiery readiness to strike. Both catered to an eerie atmosphere. It was carefully staged to further keep any visiting outsiders uncomfortable.

The men who waited in the foyer at the foot of the stairs were indeed uncomfortable. The air inside the temple was completely still. Not a single outside breeze came through. Hot and stuffy. They were fidgety; shifting in place. Wary looks were passed between them, unsure if they had been stood up or not.

From the top of the stairs, however, a shrouded figure appeared and took his time descending the steps. He was dressed as he was earlier: black, floor-sweeping trench coat, and black ankle- cinched cotton pants. He was shirtless, his bare chest just visible under the coat. His head was at an angle that reveled only the Black Tattoo curling around his left eye. Its body and tail consumed his skull, the base of his neck and all the way around to behind his right ear.

His stride was long and powerful, that of a thoroughbred. Muscles were visibly moving under his pant legs, as though the clothes were meant to barely contain him. When he took the final stop and his bare feet touched ground floor, he stopped, pausing for effect.

The silence continued to build to an unbearable level. The gathered group knew the reputation of the Black Dragon. Each was afraid to be the first to speak. They gave him plenty of room, quietly pleading and begging for this man to speak his piece. Cānglóng brought his head up carefully to level an even stare at each man. His lips pursed in what was the limit of his smiling capabilities.

"Gentlemen," his voice was clipped with accent and just above a whisper. Yet it carried to each attentive ear, "Welcome to our dǎ zhàng temple of Century City-the first of its kind outside of Hong Kong. Because of your financial patronage, we will bring the honor and tradition of the dǎ zhàng not only here..." He spread his arms wide, "But everywhere, as long as there are those who remember their heritage and embrace of the power of gung fu."

He lowered his arms. "Some of you have graciously allowed your homes to be a part of our growing enterprise. I am most grateful." A small bow of the head before he continued, " We have also found space and gracious support at the docks, the business district and the casinos of the South end of the city. With these temples of gung fu, we are well on our well to further expansion. As we speak, three fights are already in progress and I hear the stakes are quite high."

He sensed an inquiry forming from one of the patrons. A cool, appraising stare feel upon the man. "A question?"

The older gentleman cleared his throat and nodded hurriedly. "Yes. This space here," He began, looking to the ceiling of the old temple, "We can't possibly use it. It is too well known! Too many eyes will be on it. Especially with the Golden Lotus Cafe down the street. Young Jimmy Kee is back. He won't stand for anything like this in his own backyard! Besides," the man darted his eyes to the rest of the crowd and back the Black Dragon. "The boy and his family have the Green Hornet's favor!"

The Black Dragon considered this and seemed to glide his approach into the crowd of men. They parted quickly to let him through. He went to the front doors of the temple and mounted the set of steps before them. He turned dramatically, the shadows playing off his head and tattoo. The dragon appeared to move menacingly across his skull.

"This temple is ours. I have claimed it to hold the power of gung fu it deserves. Jimmy Kee is insignificant. The Green Hornet as well. As for his masked companion," he made a gesture of casual dismissal. "When the time is right, this temple will hold its single greatest battle: it won't see a lesser fight until then. I will take this gung fu man and break him. Without his partner, the Green Hornet is below even that of his namesake. I will squash him too. I am here to stay and I am playing for keeps! Gentleman, we will walk in this together. However," His eyed the gentleman who had questioned him, "I will be the master of this domain-walk with me but _only_ behind me. That is what I ask and it will be done. Yes?"

Agreement rippled through the men. The Black Dragon bowed his head with anything but sincere humility. "I have two cars waiting to take you the dǎ zhàng tonight." His stretched his arm out in a beckoning motion to the darkened area under and to the right of the staircase.

The candles did not reach that space. It was untouchable and forbidden. Once the claw of the Black Dragon ensnared them into his lightless realm, there was no turning back. They went blindly, masking themselves in a willingness they did not wholly trust...

* * *

Kato dialed once more and sat back in his chair. The apartment was dark save for the single light in the kitchen, where he sat. He was aware of how many international calls he was making and how many had been wastes of money and time. He was running out of connections to call.

When they were connected, an older woman's voice answered shortly in annoyed Chinese. The time difference was 15 hours, give or take, between them. He'd probably caught her in the middle of her afternoon routine. He quickly introduced himself, fingers crossed she would remember him. At the mention of his name, all annoyance vanished. He smiled as the woman cried out his name and went on and on how long it had been. Was he doing well? _What_ was he doing?...Kato answered her questions respectfully before changing the subject.

He asked her if she remembered Shīfu Yip Man: an older man usually dressed in plain white robes, he hair tied tightly in a knot on the top of his head. He would often come to collect Kato (a much younger Kato) from her little shop, which sat across from his school. It was where he would go to lick his wounds and get something to eat after an unsuccessful fight. Instead of facing his Master dutifully, as he should have done….

Of course she did! Had she heard anything about him of late? She remembered Shīfu Man had agreed to house an American student on a study abroad trip and recalled the student coming in with Shīfu when he was showing the young man around. But anything more recent, in the last six months? She paused, exactly at the same point of the conversations the others had paused at. Kato heard her say she hadn't seen him since then. Or heard anything-after all, Shīfu Man was very private. Yes...yes he was. He excused himself from the conversation, thanked her for her time and wished her well. He hung up and marked that number off his list.

The numbers he had from home had dwindled to those he wasn't sure were still active. And he didn't feel like calling anymore tonight. It was obvious some of them knew more but wouldn't say or maybe couldn't. He wondered if he really had to go back...and did he actually want to return?

He stood up and tossed his pencil on the pad he had been using to scratch the numbers off one by one. It was painfully thin of notes and answers. There wasn't a question of wanting to go back, he would have to. Man would have done as much for him, he was certain of that. It was just...he needed to finish this end of it first. Perhaps if he did, he would know more about the part Shīfu had played or had been forced to play. Kato did believed wholeheartedly that whatever had happened, Man would not have gone willingly.

Kato turned the lights on in the apartment to make it look as though he'd been busy all night- _busier_ than he had been, at least. He looked to Britt's desk and remembered the nightly talks the two had shared at that desk: about their lives in past and what life would be like in the future; how they shaped the Green Hornet personae together there. Many nights, Kato had spent just listening to Britt bitterly mourn the loss of his father and spit out the hate he had for the men responsible; and then the promises they made about no secrets, ever. What they embarked on the moment the Green Hornet appeared on the criminal scene, they would do together. All the pain, all the triumphs, all the heartbreaks: _everything_ : straight done the line.

Kato frowned at this memory of him and Britt shaking hands, laughing at what a surprise they had in store for the citizens of Century City. There was the pride of honesty and then there was protecting the life of a dear friend, even if it meant bruising that pride a little.

He heard Britt's key in the door. He eased himself against the edge of the desk. Britt was obviously tired, his greeting muted. He peeled himself free of his suit coat and went to the desk to toss it over the chair back. Kato was completely still as Britt moved around him, and this gave him pause. He dropped a careful look to his friend's features to see a hard calculating look in his eyes Britt was not used to seeing. This was not the look Kato used as the Hornet's partner, either. It wasn't for effect. It was real.

Kato needed no prompting. He hugged himself and sighed. "I...I might have to go to Hong Kong."

Britt was taken aback. Not at all what he was expecting. "To China? Why?"

Kato's jaw was working, "My old Master is in trouble. Or at least I think he is. I have made some calls, we'll see."

"Trouble?" Britt sat on the opposite edge of the desk and folded his hands in his lap. "What kind of trouble? How do you know?"

"Jimmy Kee...I told him to stay with my Master to make his studies easier. He said some rough characters had been hanging around; that somebody named Lao Yin seemed to be running some kind of..." He momentarily paused to choose the exact word, "... _racket_ in my master's school, but he didn't know how everything played out. He doesn't feel too good about it, though."

"I think your master could handle himself, couldn't he...?"

Kato twisted his mouth in silent agreement, " 'Course...depending on the trouble. He _is_ old..." Kato abruptly shoved away from the edge to face Britt, agitated. "I don't know. I have to see how the calls I made here pan out. If ...if they don't," He swallowed and instantly calmed, "If they don't, I will have to go to him; find him, help him if I can. You understand?"

He could see Britt working over the idea of Kato leaving and he saw he didn't like it. Just as he'd said he would feel if Kato ever did decide to go.

"I understand. How long?"

"I don't know, honestly. That too depends on the trouble."

"I could go with you."

Kato expected this and replied softly, "There's little you could do over there..."

"Really? I have all my father's old connections, especially his Hong Kong contacts. Not to mention the Far East office of the Sentinel. That's quite a lot."

Now, Kato was annoyed by his friend's usual stubbornness, "That's not what I meant. These men, I know the type very well. They are dangerous and deadly. Their gung fu is meant only to kill. I would rather have you stay here. Out of trouble."

"And out of the way?" Britt added lightly. "If you don't think I can handle myself in that kind of fight, you can just tell me. I wouldn't be offended. I know I'm not as capable as you are..." Britt had meant that to be as equally light but he could tell immediately it hadn't gone over that way. "…I'm sorry."

Kato shook it off. He chose not to meet Britt's eye then. Looked to his feet to collect himself. "This is something I must do alone."

He quickly met his friend's piercing gaze. "If it were you, I would do the same. And you for me."

Britt didn't know but in the words Kato spoke, he spoke not only of his helping his master but of what he would do here. To the men of the dǎ zhàng and to this Black Dragon and was apologizing for it. He tried to make Britt see it was for his own good that Kato was leaving him out of this. The promises they made would only be good if both of them were alive-Kato would not let a fight that wasn't Britt's destroy that.

He saw Britt was studying him. Maybe he was reading between the lines and knew there was more that Kato was hiding. But then he stopped his search and nodded compliantly. "Okay. If you think this has to be done, you do what you have to do. But be careful, okay? And if you need anything, call me _immediately._ I'll be here or there, too." Britt clapped him on the shoulder and stood. "I'm going to take a shower and try to get some work done."

Kato saw him pause and turn halfway, "Looks like the Green Hornet's going to be out of commission awhile. I don't want that to be permanent. I can't _stand_ being normal."

When Kato showed just a hint of his old cocky grin, Britt smiled and left him alone. Kato stood at the desk a while longer, wrestling himself over the lie he was going to be living. He had to believe it was right. It _felt_ right and a _whole_ lot better than the guilt he'd feel if he dragged Britt into something far too big for him to handle and got him killed for it.

When Britt exited the bathroom again, towel-drying his hair, Kato was gone. Most of the lights were off again, save for the light on his desk. The edges of his study seemed darker than usual. The air was heavier and the shadows cast by his desk light toyed with his senses. Britt felt a chill run across his bare back and physically shivered. He moved to his desk to touch the cool wood and was reassured by its familiarity. He looked out across his apartment, feeling as though this should be the last place he should feel spooked in. Britt shook his head and sighed, draping the towel around his neck. The things the dark can do to you if you let it...


	3. Snapshot I: 1957

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief look back on how the dynamics of the Britt Reid/Kato brotherhood began. Creates a basis of understanding for the rest of the story. Such 'snapshots' will be sprinkled in here and there to supplement.

_June 3rd, 1957_

_Graduation Night_

_1:00am_

The alley entrance slammed open and six bodies tumbled out into the night. The grungy slick surface provided no perchance for one who was on one's stomach, trying to crawl out from under the pile.

Five were of the strictly criminal type: Mob soldiers. Flashy but not too flashy. Packing, but preferring old fashion ass kickings. What were the big gold signet rings for, anyway?

"One at a time, boys, one at a time! Everybody gets a turn-! The victim growled, drunk.

Arms were yanked back, and pinned. Head held up by the hair roots. Torso exposed and pulled taunt to accept punishment. The biggest of the soldiers pounded three devastating bread basket blows, bowing him over to wheeze a lung out. Abdominal muscles were left feeling as though they were unraveling.

"Heh! Ain't gonna shoot your damn mouth off again, are ya, Reid? _You ain't gonna do Jack SHIT!"_

Britt Reid sagged and spat blood, before grinning to himself. "Right, yeah. I'm gonna take my beating like a good little rich boy-!"

Big Thug towered over him, grabbing shirt front for the kill shot. Britt reacted immediately, bringing his head up fast into the bent face, smashing nose cartilage. Big Thug howled in muffled agony, staggered. Britt brought his leg up behind him, shoe heel catching the groin to CRUSH family jewels.

Immediate release. Two down, three left and converging. Britt fired his punches left, right and center, hitting all on the button. Although they were stumbling back, one went in for the tackle around the middle to bowl him over. Britt boxed his ears, leaving him hunched with bloody handfuls. He finished him off by taking a fist full of jacket and launching him into the wall. Preoccupation here, cost him a haymaker blow from right, cracking his jaw. Britt sprawled, clutching his face. He swore loudly.

Drunk as he was, he really didn't feel too much but what he did was enough. The cocking of a gun brought his head up but didn't clear his vision. End game.

"You're gonna shoot me?" Britt slurred, filled with the fiery confidence only booze could supply. " _Go the hell ahead!"_

From literally out of the night…As if the darkness had spat this savior at Britt out of pity, an ear splitting KIIIEEEAAIIII shattered the precious moment needed to pull a trigger. A black blur of motion knock the gun and gunman into the wall next to Britt. He fell like a ton of bricks into a heap of garage. Out cold. Not even waiting to see that end, the phantom spun like a dervish into the other two attempting to draw. They landed in the gutter at the mouth of the alley. The final thug made a mad dash to grab at the blur but his head snapped back with a very unhealthy crack. Like a boneless sack of flesh, he was out before he hit the ground.

Britt blinked, confused. Wasn't someone going to… shoot him? Or...?

A pale serious face attached to a thin wiry body tilted a look at him. Black eyes glittered in concern. "You okay?"

Small hand outstretched to assist. Britt held his face as he took the hand and was yanked effortlessly to his feet. In fact, he almost ended up right back on his ass as the gravity-driven world really hated him at the moment.

"Kato...?! Ssshit…! Oh my god! Zat was you?"

Kato nodded, holding onto his elbow. "They got you pretty good. Good thing I found you."

Police sirens wailed in the distance. Apparently the bar owner had called to make things look proper and upstanding...

"C'mon!" Britt slip-ran for the street with Kato on his heels.

"You're not driving! Watch out."

Kato shoved Britt into the passenger seat of Britt's Thunderbird. He then slid across the hood and swung into the driver's seat. They were two streets over before the cops arrived at the scene to find five very unconscious customers.

Britt whooped in glee and tried to stand to accept the beautiful warm night air as his own.

"Sit down!" Kato pulled at his shirt. Britt obliged with a shit eating grin. "To the VanZandt Peake, James! And don't spare any horses!"

Kato rolled his eyes. "You're beyond drunk. I'm supposed to bring you home, anyway. Your parents were not very thrilled with you as it is..."

Britt shook his whole body and insisted, a stupid sloppy grin still plastered on his face. "Nope. Uh-uh. VanZandt Peake or nuthin'. "

Kato regarded him with a veiled sideways glance, making his mind up. Well...maybe the air _would_ do him good. If he brought him back this wasted, it would only be worse for Britt.

"Fine."

 _"...Really?_ Man, I like you!"

* * *

VanZandt Peake was the highest point of the city limits; the go-to lovers lane spot. It was named after the Founding Father of Century City, someone the Reid family was well connected too: Britt Reid's mother was a VanZandt.

Kato pulled into the Peake's parking lot some twenty minutes later, relieved Britt had kept his seat for the ride; his mouth was running a mile a minute but what else was new?

The car barely settled into park before Britt vaulted from the car. Kato sighed and jumped out after him. The last thing Kato needed was for Britt to break his neck...

Of course, Britt _did_ take a nose dive down the sloping incline of the first hill. His faceplant didn't hurt nearly as much as it probably should. The perks of being wasted... Kato ran down the hill to his aid.

Britt was sitting up and spitting dirt. Laughing his ass off.

"You alright?" Kato crouched next him.

Britt's blurry eyes found the face that was talking to him, and the laughter subsided for just a moment before another gust of private hilarity hit him. He flopped back into the grass, slapping the ground.

Kato pursed his lips. "Yep. You're fine." He sighed again and decided to sit himself. He calmly watched Britt howl himself into gasping sobs.

"Y-you took out...like...five guys in, like, two moves! TWO! How fantastic is that!?"

Kato shrugged. "It was necessary."

Britt gaped at him, slacked jawed. Apparently forgot all about his ballooning jaw line, as well. He'd remember soon enough...

"What?" Kato asked, uncomfortable under Britt's orb-eyed ogling. He suddenly reached out to touch Kato's face. The aim was off a bit and none too steady. Kato batted his hand away, "What are you doing? Keep your hands to yourself, will you?!"

"Mmsorry, but...like...I'm…seeing… you for like first time, man. Like...really seeing you. You are like a...crazy, ...God, or...something." His hands made weird air shaping motions. At least he was a funny drunk….

And he had a point: this was only the second full conversation Kato had ever had with Britt since coming to the States three years before. Between being away at college, butt wild parties with his many friends and girlfriends and just plain restlessness at being 'stuck' at the Reid Estate when he was home, Kato hadn't seen much of Britt, if at all. If they did speak, prior to this, it was short and sweet: Yes, Mr. Britt. No Mr. Britt. Good morning Mr. Britt...always, Britt was considerate and polite: a gentleman. Kato pegged him as a good man with potential but no aim. If he could just FOCUS, Britt Reid could be somebody very big in his own right.

That was a big 'if' at the moment however...

Kato chuckled. Even plastered, Britt's sparkling charm was intact. Eloquence? Meh. Not so much..."Or something. No God, though."

"I mean, like, that one move.?...what wuhzit? I don't even..."

Britt made his hand into a karate chop ready weapon...because, in his state, he probably would hit himself trying to replicate it. Two chops to the air followed by a yowling wholly unlike any cries Kato actually summoned prompted Kato to grab his hand again, nodding patiently. "That's...close." he conceded. "Close."

Britt positively beamed and fell back again, spreadeagled. "Man, I had no idea! We could rule the world with that stuff!"

"Mmm, no...I don't think so. That _stuff_ is called wing chun, a form of gung fu I have been studying my entire life. It's not... _exactly_ meant for that."

"Are you kidding me?! You took out five huge, ARMED gangsters!" Britt covered his eyes as he started laughing again. "It was b-b-beautiful!"

Kato waited until his hysterics passed and Britt had moved to massaging his jaw. "Ow. Damn. Hey…uh...you didn't happen to bring any..." he made the international sign for booze, "did you?"

"No. I'm sorry. I don't drink. Besides, you've had enough I think."

Britt made a raspberry sound, waving Kato off, "puh-lease...'mjust warmin' up!"

Kato arched an eyebrow. "Oh."

Britt chuckled to himself. His attention invariably wandered to staring into the night sky. Kato realized Britt would probably conk out soon, so he kept him talking. Maybe because he didn't want to have to deal with a six foot plus frame full of dead weight if he did pass out...or perhaps more because Kato found he liked talking to Britt.

Three sheets to the wind factored in, of course.

"You know, "Kato began, leaning forward to take a handful of cool grass, "You weren't too bad yourself. ...Boxing?"

Britt grunted. "Chyeah...and football. All American." Tip of the chin over to wink at Kato, grinning. Kato had no idea what being All-American meant in terms of football but suspected it was desirable. Or, come to think of it, why it required a wink….?

"I could tell. Your form is very strong, centered. I could help you get even better. ...If you quit the drinking, of course."

Britt wrinkled his face in mock pain and groaned. "Reeeally? So...I gotta become, like, a health nut?"

"No...you don't. You make certain changes though. Like I did. The results are worth it."

"How come we nev- talked like this buhfore, Kato?"

Britt's voice was thickening, his head lolling to the side.

"You...were otherwise _preoccupied_ , shall we say?"

A noncommittal grunt.

"I'm an asshole, Kato. C'mon. You kin say it. I said it, din' I?"

Kato sobered and reached out a reassuring hand. "No. Actually. You're not. What you really are...I won't burden you with. Come on. We're going home."

This time it was a moan of genuine agony. Britt was aching; the booze wasn't firing through his system with the same zing.

Kato helped him to his feet with the same feline grace and strength he seemed to handle everything else with. He more than steered his much larger and weightier counterpart back up the hill from the overlook and through the haphazard lines of parked cars, their windows steamed, with audible cooing and giggles from the cabins.

Britt jerked awake to waved wildly and purr, "Hiya, girls!", at an all-female convertible they passed. Several greedy hands reached out to snatch him.

"Nnnope! Sorry, ladies..." Kato muttered, propelling his wayward companion forward. Britt collapsed in heap in the back seat of his convertible, yawning and murmuring incoherently.

Kato scratched the back of his head, perplexed. A real piece of work…

When he arrived at the palatial Reid Estate, Britt under arm, he was met not by the butler, Jarvis, but by the Reid's themselves. The party guests had long dispersed. Everyone was dressed for bed. Robes tied tightly, arms folded across chests.

Henry Reid was a towering institution of a man. Built like a prize fighter with a full mane of white hair, he commanded a room just by walking into it. His craggy face was clearly what Britt had to look forward to in his older years, so close in appearance father and son were. Right down to the piercing aquamarine eyes.

Mrs. Reid, formerly Barbara VanZandt, hovered behind her husband. She had been a beauty in her youth, her fortune equally desirable. The weight of pulling a moderately successful small time publisher to where he was today, molding him and putting up with his temper had worn down her high cheek-boned radiance to an aged matronly elegance. Bringing up a son who has all at once belligerent about his wealth and name yet not too proud to tug at those strings to save himself time and again; who could be the kindest and sweetest boy one moment and a sullen spoilsport the next…had furthered the process for a fair amount of her gray hairs and worry lines. She was no longer queen of the ball, but nursemaid and familial lynchpin.

"Good God!" She gasped, reaching for her throat. "Is he…conscious?"

"Define conscious." Kato countered under his breath but answered, "No. Not for the ride home. I apologize for the lateness. …He needed air."

"Lucky for him." His father graveled. He blocked Kato's path, forcing him to awkwardly heft Britt into him. Their height difference was becoming painfully acute. Kato was used to this bully treatment; Henry Reid was a force of nature and like any hurricane or tornado, he preferred shoving—blowing if he could- his way through any house, barn or man. 'House' being rival newspapers, 'barn' being reporter corps, his and otherwise, and 'man' being every other soul on Earth that wasn't him. Kato wasn't cowtowed. He'd seen too much and done too many things that would make even Mr. Force of Nature cringe….

"Excuse me, Mr. Reid. But your son has had a very rough night."

" _I bet_. Which girl and which bar was it this time? And who saw him there?"

Kato hunched under Britt's deadweight. "May we discuss this tomorrow? I'm rather tired…and Britt's in no condition. I think…perhaps, neither are you. Or Mrs. Reid. Please, sir."

The hurricane blew itself out. Henry Reid stepped aside. "Put him in the study. Couch is good enough for him." A resolute tug of his bath robe belt and a squaring of shoulders. "We'll…discuss this in the morning."

Kato dragged Britt to refuge. Mrs. Reid fluttered after him.

"Oh dear, he looks terrible! Kato, I'm so glad you found him! Where was he?! DO tell me now. I won't be able to sleep if you don't!"

Kato turned a deaf ear to her insistent ramblings as he plopped Britt on the lush leather couch in his father's office—complete with the typical masculine atmosphere and dressings. Oak and mahogany. Leather and sterling silver. Tobacco and bourbon. Behind his giant desk, hung an imposing portrait of himself. Below that, on top of his book self, a museum grade glass case over two antique ivory and silver gripped pistols. They kissed either side of a worn Texas Ranger badge.

Mrs. Reid took over for Kato, tucking and primping. Britt's jaw was already spiderwebbing black and blue. He'd have a nice shiner to boot. The doctor would check him out in the morning…She carefully bent down to kiss his forehead. Britt shifted under his blanket, groaning. She smiled sadly.

"He's really a good boy…like you, Kato. Just…well." She wrung her hands instead of continuing. "Thank you…for rescuing him tonight. Whatever happened, I'm sure it would have ended differently if you hadn't been there. Good night."

She hurried out of the study and to the foyer-engulfing grand staircase in her husband's footsteps. Kato didn't miss the tears welling in her eyes. Nor did she, which is why she left before he'd see them fall. That would be too much indignation for one night.

He arched an eyebrow down at the slumbering Britt Reid. "Maybe you are an asshole after all…."

* * *

Britt roused himself awake…he had to pee like a racehorse. He staggered to the doorway, blanket trailing out behind him. He shook it loose from under his feet and stumbled forward to mount the stairs. Since it was dark (damned if he knew the exact time but that was the least of his worries) and he was in the beginnings of a fabulously wretched hang over, it took him until his back teeth were damn near under water, to hunker down in his master bathroom for sweet luxurious relief. From there he shouldered his way into his room, ripping his clothes from his body. He faceplanted into bed on his own pants down around his ankles, which in turn sent fissures of sharp, bruising pain across his face and nose.

"Damn it." He mumbled into the sheets. Alright, so…this took more coordination than he had, point taken. Like a beached whale he flopped onto his back and kicked his pants free. He lay there, sucking in air (cuz there was a sincere chance of barfing his brains out right then, beached whale or not). Instead, he just passed out again.

* * *

_Reid Estate_

_Same Day...  
_

_10am_

"Kato, I need you in my office."

Kato swallowed his tea and answered, "Right away." into the receiver. Henry Reid clicked off before Kato could even hang up. He took another drink and wiped his mouth on his napkin before taking his leave of Cook and the other waitstaff rounding up the morning dishes. Britt's breakfast had come back down untouched. Still out cold.

Being summoned by Henry Reid was…like being summoned by his Master, Shīfu Man, back home…except with his Master, it was usually an intellectual application of gung fu that he wished to test Kato with. Here, it could mean two things: chewed out, or a pat on the back. Fifty-fifty shot.

By now, the household knew what kind of trouble Britt had spoiled up last night. Even by his standards, Britt had pulled a whopper . Forced his old man, the veteran news bulldog and stalwart protector of freedom of the press, to censor his own paper and the other papers in town, on what could be the story of the summer. Forced the family to dole out money on the side to keep witnesses quiet, the bar owner happy, and, to top it all off, to keep a world renowned gangster at bay.

Kato had beaten the living crap out of five of _Glenn Conners'_ soldiers. Well hell, Britt, you sure know how to pick 'em! Kato stopped outside the closed study door and smoothed his black t-shirt; gave his palm a rub on his jean pants for good measure. He knocked once.

"Come in, Kato."

He entered, fully expecting him to be sitting at his desk, brooding. He was instead pacing behind his desk, ham hock hands folded resolutely at the small of his back. The mate to his huge black leather command chair was in the middle of the room, occupied by the owner of longest pair of shapely nyloned legs Kato had ever seen. Kato found himself staring at the black heeled pumps these works of art ended with before he snapped to.

" Close the door."

Which he did, and stayed at, waiting to be invited in.

Reid reached his arm out to Kato to beckon him.

"I'd like you to meet my new secretary, Ms. Lenore Case."

He pulled abreast of the chair as it swung in his direction. He bowed from the waist cordially, but kept his eyes where they belonged: on her face. She was young, Britt's and Kato's age. Flawless white skin dolled up tastefully. Auburn hair like spun reddish gold in a French twist. Her eyes, green, of course, were like a cat's: mysterious, welcoming…and adept at making anyone they encountered step back and take notice. And she knew how to accentuate them just enough so that all men's eyes would go there and no lower, first. Her figure was trim and she was dressed simply in a white blouse, tailored jacket and black skirt.

Her smile would light up any room; full and genuine. In short: not like any Secretary Kato had ever seen. 'Course, his American experiences were limited…but WOW!

"Ms. Case. Pleased to meet you."

"Hello, Kato. Glad I can finally put a face to the name. Mr. Reid was just telling me about you."

She offered him her hand to shake, which took him completely off guard. American women….

He took it with gentle hesitancy. "Really? Not too much, I hope."

His knew, exactly, what Mr. Reid said. Their agreement would always stand on that matter.

Her hands were soft and warm. He let his grip drop first to step away from her respectfully. She returned her attentions to Reid. Kato noticed the annotated pad of paper on her lap. A quarter of the pad flipped over.

"I was just explaining the events of the night as I have them, getting them down and organized."

"And you need my side of it."

"Sure. Among other things. Ms. Case?" He rapidly changed gears. "If you could, we'll just be a minute. …This is to be off the record for now."

"Of course, Mr. Reid."

Kato admired the grace and strength with which she carried herself. A dancer, perhaps.

Once she had closed the door behind her, Reid rounded on him.

"You promised me, Hayashi."

 The use of his first name always hit in a weird flipflopping way in the pit of his stomach. Shīfu Man said it much the same way…but with the tenderness of wisdom.

"I…don't understand."

"Yes you do. You put _five_ men in the hospital- _GLENN CONNERS' MEN!_ I warned you, Hayashi. I warned you this would happen, didn't I? On the plane ride over…when I told you what America would mean for you, and what you would have to do in return."

"The circumstances, sir. Your son's life was in grave danger—a gun to his head. This you know. It was necessary."

Henry Reid blanched, trying to muster up for another salvo. He sighed and barked a mirthless laugh. "Ehh, what am I yelling at you for—you're right. You saved his life." He met Kato's eye and clapped him on the shoulder, full force. Nary a buckling nor a wince.

"Keep the kung fu under wraps if you can. I'll…try to corral Britt, without braining him, that is."

"I doubt he knew who they were at the time, sir, nor the trouble it would cause."

"HA! No…Hayashi, he knew exactly who they were. He doesn't pick a fight for the hell of it with ANYONE. There's usually a reason. If it wasn't over a girl, then something political or personal made him swing. My tirade against Conners is known city wide, into every black and crooked inch of it. So's my son. And his hair-trigger temper. They egged him into it to send me a message—if you hadn't showed up, Britt would be dead."

Kato drew back on these implications—so much more than he had even considered. He swallowed and reached for the chair back. "I see. Should I be worried about backlash?"

"Not unless they saw your face. Your skills have been under the radar until now."

"I think it was too dark and I was too fast, as usual."

"Alright…I'm glad you do see things for what they are. This isn't a one night deal—it's a whole new ballgame. They tried to bring it to me, both barrels. I'm going to return the favor, both barrels, _the first time._ ...I want you to keep an eye on him, nothing too overt…no kung fu if you can help it. …Maybe this will blow over and…I won't go tromping over them as hard as I say I will. I dunno just yet. …All the same, will you?"

Kato recalled the rush of leaping into the fray to save Britt and the open look of awe on Britt's face…and then talking to him as if they had been friends their whole lives. Alcohol be damned, _that was real_!

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir. With my life."

Another hearty shoulder clap. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. You're alright, Hayashi."

"Er, thank you, Mr. Reid…"

"Why don't you go wake Sleeping Beauty, eh? Bout time he dragged his ass up and faced the music."

Kato bowed his retreat and found Ms. Case waiting on the other side of the door, apparently believing she could go back in. He awkwardly shimmied his way around her instead of using his body to block her path.

"Um, Ms. Case…I do not think you should go back in just yet. He wishes to speak with Mr. Britt now. I was just going up to retrieve him."

She made a face. "Oh boy. How bad do you think it's going to be?"

"For Mr. Britt? Or Mr. Reid?"

"You've got a point, there."

Kato realized that he should probably try something smooth…or suave… to get her to wait with him while the two men faced off but for the life of him all his usual inner eloquence and surety had gone out the damn window.

"Eh, um, we, we could wait together outside, if you would like, while they have it out? Have you seen the gardens in the back? They are very beautiful." _Like you._

She regarded him with a certain twinkle in her eye, as if she knew exactly what he was trying to do. She held her head just so, a coy smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "No, I haven't. I would like to, though."

Kato swallowed and blinked twice. Oh. She accepted. Well then.

"You would? I mean…you would. Great! I will be right back down. Excuse me…."

Kato took the stairs two, three at a time, trying to contain the cocksure grin he always sported when he made something happen and happen _right_. His Master had been keen on wiping that cocky attitude out. Instead, he merely settled on teaching the boy to control it. Inner peace found its way around that in time.

He rapped twice on Britt's bedroom door. A muffled, "Yeah?" answered him. Kato popped his head around the door jam.

"May I come in?"

A Britt sized lump under a bundle of blankets, sheets and pillows uttered, "Knock yourself out."

Kato recognized the American euphemism as an affirmative and shut the door behind him. He scrunched his nose at the muddy stench of stale beer and alley way grim emanating from the strewn piles of clothing and quite possibly from Britt himself. He picked his way through to lean on Britt's bedside table, looking down in bemused concern.

"Hey, it's me."

"…Define me."

"Kato."

The lump moved a pillow edge just enough. One bloodshot eye studied him. The pillow fell back into place.

"Too bright. Too early. Go away."

"I can't. Your father wants you."

"…he can go to hell, then. Can't he? Tell 'em I said so…."

"…I don't think that would go over too well."

"How about, then, you tell him what I told you: too bright, too early, GO THE HELL AWAY!"

Britt tore himself free from under his trappings, ripping sheets and tossing pillows in the process. Kato winced at the carnage left on Britt's face. He whistled low and slow. "Ouch. That's…quite a shiner. Did you look in the mirror at all? Should really see it."

Britt hissed through his teeth and pounded a fist into the mattress. "Goddamn it, I'M HUNG OVER. Do you bloody mind?!"

His arms crossed his face with an exaggerated moan, falling back in the sheets. "Not to mention a broken face…Jesus Christ…!"

Kato twisted his mouth to the side in a wane frown. "Considering you're able to bitch and moan alright, I DOUBT your face is broken. Look, I'm sorry. I know you had a rough night but your father is waiting. You want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

Britt dropped his arms to consider his ceiling. "Can I at least get dressed in peace?"

"If you can manage it. I'll be outside. Yell if you need help."

Britt snorked, raking the hot poker of pain right through his nose. "Chyeah. Sure. Thanks."

Kato stood quasi- guard at the door, tuned in to the sounds of movement and dressing, in case Britt actually did need assistance. The door opened at his back. He turned and stepped back to let Britt out, sullen and puffy-eyed. A day's growth of stubble highlighted his ragged features. He pulled a robe around himself, hiding the pajamas underneath and raked his hands through dark greasy hair.

"Coulda let me shower first, y'know…."

"The way you look? How you smell is the least of your worries."

"You got a real attitude problem this morning, you know that?"

"Me?!" Kato pivoted a step down to confront him. "You started all this! You knew they were Glenn Conners' men and you STILL picked a fight! Death wish? Or stupidity!"

"I'm not answering to you. Bad enough I gotta face my old man. So why don't you just go shove it, like in the kitchen or something. Cool?"

_You son of a bitch!_

Stung and betrayed by the words and the venom behind them, Kato balled his fist and leaped down the stairs—all but flying over the last full flight. It was better than punching his teeth in. Ms. Case wasn't in the foyer waiting. He panicked. Had she heard the exchange and changed her mind?

He heard Britt muttering under his breath, shuffling to the study door. Fleeing, Kato bolted for the front French doors and flung them open to the wrap-around porch outside. The glass rattled.

Ms. Case jumped, surprised by his abrupt arrival. "Oh! Kato—I'm sorry. I wanted to wait for you outside."

Her smile was wholesome and bright. Kato tried to fixate himself on that smile and the captivating eyes that willingly looked upon him as a man, not an inferior. He had believed Britt could do the same, but to hear him invoke their racial and class differences so callously….

"Kato, is something wrong? You have the strangest look on your face."

He realized he was staring into the space over her head and jerked his attentions back when he felt her brush his bare arm.

"Um. No." He managed. His face configured itself into a somewhat convincing mask of ease. His heart stopped pounding out of his chest.

"…O-okay. Well. Shall we walk?"

Kato swallowed. Such a simple invitation brought on a multitude of emotions. "…Yes. Yes, we will." His shoulders squared and the sleek musculature of his back relaxed. "I want to show you Mrs. Reid's roses first. She has so many varieties. However, I think…they _all_ would suit you very well."

His hand lightly touched her elbow. She happily agreed to his suggestion. This allowed his grip to rest more solidly to guide her off the porch. They made their way around the side of the main house, and down a brook lined stone path into manmade greenthumbed solitude.

* * *

His father was at his desk. The temperature of their gazes plummeted together and locked in at below zero. The greens in their eyes vanished, leaving unwavering shades of blue and gray.

Reid didn't offer him the spare chair, not did Britt take it. He wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction. The older man leaned back in his seat, making the leather groan and stretch under him. He regarded his son with mild disgust.

"Just so you know…I'm not gonna bitch you out for fighting them-they would have forced you into it one way or another. If not last night, then the next night…night after that…doesn't matter. You're marked. Maybe you could have been the bigger man and not swung. In that case they would have just shot you in the head, in that alleyway, pretenses be damned. But they knew you would swing. So you made it easy for them. And, in that case, you're lucky Kato showed up when he did."

"…Then why am I here. I'm hung over. My face hurts. I just…want to crawl into bed and die for a few days."

Reid pitched forward in his seat, halfway across his desk, to jab a finger in his face.

"Because I AM going to bitch you out for leaving LAST NIGHT; for all the bullshit you've pulled up until now! For jerking people around when they try to help you! That's why you're goddamn here!"

Britt rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in exasperation. "Well, whoop de ffff-!"

Reid leaped out of his chair and collared Britt into the guest chair. He shoved both across the room. The door stopped the backward momentum with a sharp rebuke to the back of his head. Britt slumped, stunned into silence, with a piqued red tinge in his cheeks. Tears were at the corner of his eyes more from the jostling of his hang-over than anything else.

Reid stormed over him, face beet red. Corded muscles bulging in his neck. He breathed in quick burst out his nose like a bull.

"I dare you to finish that sentence. I DARE YOU."

Britt remained slumped, face averted.

"I thought so. Your mother thinks I'm too hard on you. And I think she's too SOFT on you. This is our middle ground: in here, in this office, I can run you into the damn GROUND if I want to. I'm going to do the talking. YOU'RE GOING TO LISTEN. Or so help me, one more cute remark and I'll put you THROUGH the door."

A mumbled, "Yes, sir."

"LOOK at me when you say it."

Britt took two long steadying breath through his nose to buck up. His expression was blank. "Yes. Sir."

Reid constricted his gaze, gauging whether or not he liked that particular tone of voice, and decided he could live with it.

"…I sent you to the best schools, Britt. All the right people in all the right places. I made the Daily Sentinel into something I would be proud to leave as my legacy. But at every turn, you thwarted me: all the women I had to pay off, the affairs I had to end…the unpaid bar tabs, repair bills for the all the night clubs and restaurants you and your buddies trashed, the cars you crashed driving drunk; the scandals I had to skirt, not for your sake but for your MOTHER'S. The embarrassment to her…doesn't even touch mine, and I know you have no shame, so what the hell do you care, right? Then you barely graduate from Stanford. The football, and the boxing: that was alright, at least you were doing SOMETHING on my dime—but what good is football and boxing when you have to run Daily Sentinel when I'm gone? You didn't give that a single thought, did you? It's all about you, no matter who you hurt! This time it was yourself—one day that just might get you killed!

"Last night was just the icing on the cake. Your mother spent **_months_** preparing this graduation party, even when we weren't sure you'd do it. She believed in you, I didn't. Yet you don't even stick around long enough to say hello, let alone to be at least a somewhat gratuitous host before runnin' off without whoever the hell you drudged up for another bender! Goddamnit, how much more do you think she can endure from you? This was your night to give a little something back for everything you taken from her—us!"

Reid broke off the attack and turned his back on his son, gathering himself. Britt picked his head off his chest after a few moments of silence.

"You're wrong about one thing." He said, his voice cracking.

Reid half turned to glower. "And what's that?"

"I graduated magna cum laude. Betcha didn't bother to check—you just assumed the worst, like you always do. I didn't just BARELY scrape by; I worked _for you._ Because I know how much the Daily Sentinel means to you! Keep pushing it, Dad. I'm willing to compromise but you won't LISTEN to me!"

"What the hell do you mean?!"

Britt sat back in his seat, gesturing to the room around him. "I can't…keep up with this. I need to breathe once in a while! I told you-the parties…the—the invitations to all the big galas and charity…shit, I just want to be normal! Go out and have fun…!"

"But you're NOT normal, you're my SON! And for a guy who 'wants to have fun' you do alright! ON MY TAB!"

"THEN CUT ME OFF!"

Reid went rigid. "Don't…tempt me."

Britt slung his head between his knees in total despair. "Christ, Dad." he moaned quietly. "I—I don't wanna fight with you anymore…."

"Then stop giving me a reason to fight you!" Reid insisted.

"What can I do? Everything I try, you hate. I got a degree in business and a minor in journalism; you call it scraping by. I tell you I hate parties, and, and that I appreciate a graduation party but, that I just want to celebrate on my own first—you disregard that and Mom…goes absolutely nuts planning it…so, my fault when it doesn't off perfectly! Whatever...I know I've messed up, a lot. _**I know! I know!** "_

Britt's gripped his head, crushing his skull in his hands. "I'm sorry, Dad."

Reid regarded him carefully. A pitiful site, really. But for somebody running on six hours sleep, hung over, with an eye yay-big and busted up jaw….

"Could be worse, kid. Could be dead."

Britt raised his head when he realized the tone of voice had changed, and his dad was giving him that crooked smile he usually ended every dust up with.

He half smiled back, or tried to—the jaw clicked when he attempted the movement.

"Just so you know…I knew they were Glenn Conners' men. And I knew they were following me, considering the things you've been printing in the Sentinel about their boss. But I really didn't give a shit until they got in my face and said a few things I didn't like about you and mom." Britt shrugged, "Too bad I was already plastered. Maybe I could have taken 'em without Kato."

Reid chuckled darkly at the idea. "IIII don't know about that…."

"Did you know he could do that?"

"Do what?"

Britt pantomimed a karate chop, 'That…whaddya call it, wing chun…kung fu stuff, whatever."

"Oh. That." Reid scratched the patch of skin behind his ear thoughtfully. "Yeah. I knew."

"Is that why you brought him over here?"

Reid stopped his thoughtful inch and presented him with an enigmatic smile and under the eyebrow look. "That's…another story for another time. Look', again rapidly changing gears, "I dunno if this thing gonna blow over—you're supposed to be dead as a message to me and you're not—you have Kato to thank for that. As such, I'm going to have him keep an eye on you til we know for sure…what Conners' next move is gonna be against us. He might do nothing; he might send more guys out to finish the job."

"You mean, Kato's my bodyguard?"

"If you wanna call him that, sure."

"What about Axford? I thought he was on call for crazy stuff like this."

"Mike Axford is getting too old to be covering your ass. Besides, he's quickly becoming my top police reporter for the paper No…besides, Kato agreed quite readily to it. Consider yourself lucky, huh?'

Britt winced, "He did? …Ah. Yeah."

"What?" Reid prompted. "…Don't tell ME you pissed him off too?!"

"I...well," Britt pressed his lips together into a firm line. "Put it this way…I told him I was an asshole; what I did is…what he and I get for him not believing me…."

Reid shook his head in exasperation, "Sometimes I just don't know….Alright, go get cleaned up, you stink to high heaven. Doctor Grant's gonna be here soon." He tipped Britt's face up under the chin to check the damage himself, "Doubt it's broken, but…. Then I want you to go apologize to your mother, and Kato. Got it?"

"What about you?"

"Whaddya mean—about Conners?'

"Yeah."

"What he tried I won't let go. Either I go full force at him or just play it as it goes; either way, he's mine."

"Sure you don't want Kato? Think you're gonna need him more than me."

Reid let out a rueful bark. "I'll be alright."

"Right." Britt got up stiffly and pulled back his shoulder blades to crack his back. Reid went behind his desk and assembled his papers, stopping to watch his son work his body as he reached for the door handle.

"Britt?"

He moved his head to the side just enough to see his father in his periphery.

"…Maybe there were some shortcomings in how we raised you, I dunno. I wanted you to have what I _didn't_ have; what every father wants for his son. Oldest cliché there is. I just didn't know how to _handle_ …giving it to you, I suppose. And your mother really didn't tell me how, and I didn't ask either. My fault. But it's fifty-fifty deal, too—you have to _show me_ you deserve it. That's why I bitch and moan at ya—I care that much. It's not too late to change; to show me."

Britt's hand rested on the door knob as he considered those parting words. "Right, Dad." He whispered, and left. Padding across the foyer to the staircase, he saw Jarvis bustling in and out of his master bedroom suite. Preparing his bath, no doubt. Britt shook his head. Some things would never change no matter how much he did or tried to….

On the top flight, he turned on his heel at the sound of pleasantly throaty feminine laughter. The French doors opened far more civilly than before, and Kato ushered in…a vision.

Britt stared openly. _Sweet Jesus, she's gorgeous._ Amazonian grace haloed in reddish gold; veneered with ivory skin, and infinity pools of green for alluring eyes. Kato _bowed_ from the waist, thanking her for something. The gleam in his eye was unmistakable. As he departed for the open doors once more, she turned to walk back to the office but not before catching Britt staring down at her. There was no revulsion or pity from her; but there _was_ something else. Something that made butterflies appear and a flush of heat spread from the top of his head down. Her mouth curled in a pert smile. Britt returned the same.

They didn't see him, or were even aware of anyone but them, but Kato was watching from the door. His own feelings crashed down around him in a sea of dismay. His heart plummeted in a twist to his stomach.

What he saw…were fireworks.

* * *

Jarvis helped him dress after his bath, despite being ordered otherwise. Instead of brooding about the lack of regard for his personal wishes as of yet still, he used Jarvis insistence on sticking around to his advantage.

"Ehm, Jarvis."

"Yes, sir?"

Britt accepted the polo shirt he has handed and pulled it over his head.

"…Who's that…young lady in my father's office? …I saw her walking across the foyer just now."

He stepped into khaki pants, waiting for the answer.

"Ah. That would be your father's new secretary, Ms. Lenore Case."

Britt straightened to muss up his hair appropriately, with an inward victory dance. _Secretary?! Yes!_

"I see. What happened to Mrs. Weatherspoon?"

"A most unfortunate event, sir: her husband suffered a severe stroke—she will be his primary caretaker for now on."

"Oh. That is most unfortunate." _The old busybody!_

"Yes, sir. But your father being who he is…has agreed to keep her on salary with bonus."

"That's great. He always takes care of his people."

"Yes, sir."

Dr. Grant arrived not long after with his usual disapproval and admonishment. He sat Britt on his bed side. "I dunno, Britt. Death wish, I think. Each time, more harebrained than the last…."

"You know me, Doc."

"Yeah. That's the problem. …You're alright. It's not broken; if it was, you wouldn't be talking—and we'd all be better for it!"

After Grant left with a mild harrumph at Britt's cheery response to being ordered to ice his face and take the pain pills accordingly, Britt ventured to his mother's wing of the house. He found her engaged in her favorite form of relaxation: painting. She was naturally talented, but had honed her talent during a three year stay in Paris in her early twenties. In her painting room, a sun room off the back of the house that abutted into the very gardens Kato had taken Ms. Case through, the glass panes were alive in sunlight and watercolors.

Her view of the garden opened up a perfect opportunity to paint it and it was often a choice subject; another reason she herself oversaw the planning and planting of the oasis. As such, her easel was set up in the center of the room for her to command the view onto the paper. Her painting apron was spread over front and her blonde hair was swept up and pinned off her neck. He waited in the doorway for her to call him in, because he knew she knew he was there….

"Do you like it?" She asked. He came to stand at her shoulder for a better look.

"It's your roses. As lovely on paper as on they are on their bushes."

He bent to kiss her on the cheek, at which she laughed lightly. "Flatterer. …I saw Ms. Case walking with Kato, and they stopped in the roses. Talked for the longest time…she's quite lovely herself, isn't she?"

She looked up at his face, as he still hovered over her, with a knowing look. He kept his face neutral. "Haven't noticed really" was his serenely voiced opinion. His mother laughed again.

"Now you're a liar." He fought to contain the grin of agreement that tugged at his mouth. Her mother patted his cheek, "See? Never lie to your mother, darling. I always know..."

Britt straightened to put his hand on her bony shoulder. "You also believe in me when no else does…."

He brushstroke faltered. She needed to put it on the easel before she dropped it.

"You talked to your father."

"Yes."

"Were you civil to each other?"

 _Shoved into a chair, sailing across the room so his head bounced off the door jam…._ "Yes, we were." He lied.

She cupped her face in the crook of her thumb and pointer finger to hide the quiver of her chin "I told you not to lie, Britt, darling."

"Mom," he consoled, "Please. We just talked."

"They were going to kill you, Britt!" Her voice was high and thready.

Britt came around to the front of her chair and knelt to take her hands in his. "They didn't." He stated firmly. "Conners can try what he wants to, I'm not afraid of crooks like him. I told his boys just that. If my father wants to fight him, I'll fight him too. Okay? So don't worry." He kissed her knuckles. She touched his face tenderly.

"You're a good boy, Britt." She whispered. "But please don't make me stop believing in you…!"

"I won't, I won't. I promise."

"You've promised before."

Britt drew back. "It's different this time. I keep screwing up and I'm going to lose a lot more than my self-respect." He rubbed her knuckles, embarrassed but still on his knees. "I'm asking for your forgiveness, Mom. For every…stupid, self-centered, egoistical thing I've done to you and Dad; for not realizing how much I will lose. And…that… I'm sorry."

She considered him with watery eyes before swamping him in a neck wringing hug.

* * *

Kato found the cool stone floor of the garden gazebo to be a soothing pad for his mediation; as though he was back in the shade of the Nepal Maple tree Shifu Man kept in the courtyard of his school just for that purpose. The waterfall in the pond beside the gazebo mimicked the small trickling fountains Man had placed around the yard accordingly. A soothing atmosphere to expand and contract with the very beating of one's heart.

He needed to find his space and define himself in its depths—he was raging inside, and rage had no place in peace. He was peace. He had to breathe, from the very depths of his being, up to his diaphragm, pushing up against his ribs, expanding his chest and out his nose. Repeat, slowly. Emotional content, not anger; that's what he needed to feel.

_Remember Hayashi…there is no anger. Emotional content, but never anger. As your opponent moves, you move; expand and contract, expand and contract…and when the moment arrives; it will be your fist hitting him, not you. Do you understand?_

Footsteps on grass. Heavy, but not overbearing or overweight. Not Henry Reid. The bushes on the left side of the gazebo path were rustled, a flower picked; he heard the flower snapped and separated from its host.

"What do you want." He stated with succinct crispness.

The voice faltered, trying to find balance between the casual and actual conversational substance…."I saw you with Ms. Case. Mom did too; she likes roses, huh?"

Kato got the hint, no matter how much couching there was surrounding it. An undignified snort came out his nose. "Very well. What do you want to know?"

Britt floundered. Kato cut him off, "Everything that I learned? Okay: her name is Lenore Case but her friends call her Casey, a nickname she prefers. She was born and raised here in Century City; graduated last week from Brown University with a dual degree in Journalism and Psychology. She came back here for her dream job: to work at the Daily Sentinel as a reporter. When several of her friends on the inside let her know that Mr. Reid's former secretary had to retire, she took the opportunity immediately. She studied dance as a child and teenager and briefly considered pursuing it as a career. Her mother and father are deceased and there is a sister who works in an advertising agency in New York City."

He paused for breath and to gather the true content of her character as if they were a litany of grocery items; "She's witty, charming, highly intelligent, sincere, somewhat bold and irreverent when it comes to how she carries herself…moreover, she's immensely kind, caring and fully capable of complete commitment to anyone or anything she wishes to pursue. She is fearless and immensely strong, in will, mind and spirit. Unlike anyone I've ever met...and sure as hell different from the ones your used to."

His eyes snapped open in defiance to the awed, perverse smile on Britt's face.

"Jesus! You learned all that just from walking with her for like, what, _**twenty minutes**?!_ Sounds like you've fallen pretty hard."

"You'd be surprised what you'd learn if you just shut up and listened. …And that's hardly true. I saw how she looked at you."

"You-? How? She had her back to you, if you were at the door."

"I have very acute powers of perception."

"Oh. Well. Maybe you're just being broad minded", he added with a wicked grin. Kato's eyes narrowed and darkened. "There's one more thing you should know about her."

The wicked grin dimmed. "What? Don't tell me: married?"

"No: **_she's a nice girl_.** "

Britt's expression slipped into an insulted mask of annoyance and dismay on the pointed weight behind the words, "The hell's that supposed to mean?!"

"Just what it does." He maintained the accusing barbs on each word. "She's a nice girl."

Britt mounted the steps to the gazebo, fists clenched. The muscles in his arms bulged. "And not for the likes of me, huh? Is that what you mean?! That I deserve the exact opposite...that I'm not good enough?!"

The lines of tension around Kato's eyes relaxed enough for his brow to become unfurrowed. "You're putting words in my mouth."

"THAT'S WHAT YOU MEANT!"

Kato appraised the fierce posturing and drew back in his crosslegged seat. "If you have come here to further berate me, I believe you are finished. Unless you had another purpose?"

The reserved serenity in his pose confused Britt and he stepped back.

Kato rearranged his feet carefully, taking his time until Britt couldn't handle the display any longer. He finally looked Britt in the eye and smiled wistfully, "I know what's wrong with you; why you…keep doing the things you do. Do you wish to hear it?"

Britt waited, biting at his lip in controlled vexation.

"There are two sides to you: one is Britt Reid, the happy go lucky playboy that would do anything for his friends…or even a stranger in need, including literally giving the shirt off your back—I've heard the stories. You like to party, have a good time; live it up, as you say. Your character is impeachable. You're magnetic, inviting. You enjoy doing right by everyone. But within in this light, lies the second face: the angry, violent half that wishes to undue everything good your true face wrought by simply making all the big mistakes, taking the wrong path at every twisting turn. You party TOO HARD, you drink to EXCESS; you destroy property, make the very masses drawn to you turn away.

"You do violence because you can; you ruin yourself because this half holds the allure for you, not the Britt Reid half. If you could find the potential of this other half, _give_ it aim away from destruction and arrogance and bring it together with who you really are…you will have every single attribute necessary to be indomitable leader. Yin and yang.

"And as it was last night, that _if_ remains large on your horizon—you can apologize and make promises to your parents about doing right this time, as all the other times…but until you act accordingly…. Perhaps your biggest worry shouldn't be whether Glenn Conners is going to make you…it's whether you're going to make you…right into your grave. Your choice."

Kato waited for the content of his words sink in, as he knew they would. And just like that, Britt was shakily taking a seat on the gazebo steps before him, clearly rattled and very much reproached. Kato highly doubted even Mr. Reid ever had such a dynamic effect on the young man. Britt's eyes came up red-rimmed, bringing out the overflow of blue and green waves in them.

It took him a moment longer to compose himself. His voice still carried the evidence of sweeping truth hitting home when he spoke, and the words choked out. "…D-dad said you…agreed to…be my bodyguard without hesitation. _On your life_. …Is this why?"

Kato's eyes were half lidded, peering at him in the same way Shīfu used to maintain wandering attention spans. "Partly. I like you, is really the true reason. Although, today…I'm not so certain about my decision to accept you as you are, as my friend."

"…What I said earlier to you, I, I didn't mean it…I swear. I'm…damn it! I told you I was an asshole! …I don't…have many friends that I can truly talk to or be real with, y'know? So, I don't know how to take it when…somebody actually takes the time to be real _with me_ , to care and _want to help_ —I lashed out…I-I'm sorry."

Kato paused, his mouth teetering between frown and smile. Britt's lips parted, waiting for the boom to fall. Kato cocksure grin erupted and he stuck out his hand.

Britt barked out a disbelieving laugh and took his hand in an ironclad handshake. "…I'm gonna have to get used to your kung fu mind tricks, man."

"You are going to have to get used to many new things. I told you last night that you're weren't really an asshole. You have the what, now we'll do the why and the how. This way you will see what you really are and accept it: a good man. I can give you the tools to be focused, but only you can BE focused. … _And_ with your boxing. I didn't forget", he added, with a renewal of his grin.

"…and I will show you football. Deal?"

Kato twitched his nose, "Somehow I think you are getting the better end of the deal."

Britt laughed. Kato pointed at the empty space beside him. Britt hesitated but scooted forward all the same. He matched with the crosslegged position.

"Wha?"

"I'm going to show you how to mediate."

"Meditate?"

"Yeah. Mediate. No better time to start than the present, right? This is the first step. Unless you think meditation is for pansies…"

Britt studied the sinewy, carved build of Kato's arms, probably the same for his entire body the way he moves… and decided…how bad could it be?

He folded his legs over one another and Kato prompted him in how to hold his body.

"Good. Straight back. Shoulders…yes, there you go! Now, close your eyes. Clear your mind, no thoughts! Just…breathe. From the very reaches of your being…up through to your diaphragm... feel it expand your lungs, against your ribs, up…and out, slowly, from your nose…."


	4. Snapshot II: 1958

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another look at how the dynamics of the Britt Reid/Kato brotherhood developed. Inspired by a wonderful set of photographs taken of stars Van Williams and Bruce Lee at the beach just prior to filming of the series. I can only assume the beach trip was to build camaraderie and chemistry, although I believe it was hardly necessary. They were best of friends almost immediately and that bond came through quite well despite time and development constrictions. Here's to friendship, and one of the greatest most fruitful TV-partnership ever.

_Wednesday, July 2_ _nd_ _, 1958_

 _Beginning of the July 4_ _th_ _Celebrations_

_Laguna Beach, Southern California_

* * *

Bikinis, sun kissed skin, surf boards. White sand, bath-warm water. Fireworks. Droves of teenagers and young college types descending on family owned bungalows—attractive and wealthy to a one—this was going to be quite a weekend!

Britt took a flying leap into the waves and was swallowed up by water the color of his eyes. He resurfaced surrounded by bathing beauties attempting to push him under again. High pitch peals of laughter intermingled with his mock calls for help.

"Kato! I'm surrounded!"

Kato sat sprawled in the sand at shore, dressed only in lightweight khaki drawstring pants. He waved. "You'll manage!"

"Thanks! Lotta help you are! ... _Hey! Waitaminute_! ... _Watch_ where those hands go…! Hupp! That's it! Someone's going down with me…!"

He held one under each arm, screaming 'no', as he dove in again. The rest of the pack swarmed after them. Kato laughed at their antics and cast a glance over his shoulder to check the progress of traffic to and from the three huge beach bungalows the Reid's had here at Laguna Beach. Four more cars had appeared, but not a one was Mr. and Mrs. Reid's limousine. He shifted his position to up-right and hugged his knees. He gnawed on the inside of cheek, fielding insistent whisper-soft warnings running up and down the back of his mind that something was off—wrong, and in a bad way. These warnings were nothing new, hadn't even been injected into his being by gung fu: he'd always had them, always listened to them. The philosophy he had chosen as his life's path had merely strengthened their volume and willingness to heed them immediately.

Only problem was he couldn't pin the warning's content down, and he didn't want to bother Britt with something as intangible as that. Not when his friend was actually happy.

The year since his run in with Glenn Conners' men as a threat to his father on Britt's own life, had been fruitful and busy. Nothing on the Conners' front, thankfully, although, as Henry Reid liked to insist: yet. Conners was crafty and adept at staying hidden, well out of reach of the police and his victims. Kato had settled into the bodyguard rule naturally and wondered why he hadn't been serving Britt in this capacity prior. Needless to say, Britt kept him on his toes.

Four trips, several parties escaped for escapades on their own; countless dates, following Britt on newspaper business when Britt suddenly decided to become a reporter for the Sentinel as a show of good faith to his father.

And on that front, Kato was pleased to see huge improvements. The family was no longer fighting. He knew Reid was waiting for his son to slip up and run amuck, as other attempts at such had failed in to. He'd eventually come around to the idea it wasn't.

Under Kato's tutelage, Britt had learned and earned an iota of peace and inner tranquility, along with a renewed grasp on accepting what he could and couldn't change in the world around him. His temper was, well, tempered. Their daily meditations and workouts together had sharpened the man's reflexes and mental focus. Britt had even quit the heavy drinking and dropped the very little fat he had to pack on more muscle.

More than anything, Britt Reid…enjoyed being Britt Reid.

From the deep, Britt exploded to mount a haphazard chase after several of the girls in his party. Most were college friends, while a few were old childhood pals. His male counterparts were slumming up a volleyball ball game or swimming themselves. Their numbers right now ranged at 30, Kato figured another ten where in those four cars. Good thing they were big bungalows.

Or, Kato smirked at Britt's ruthless teasings, maybe that wasn't such a good thing….

Britt relented and gave his gals up so they could run off to other guys or dive onto their blankets for some sun. He collapsed next to Kato, whipping water out of his eyes.

"Whew! Man. Hard work."

Kato chuckled. "I love your idea of work."

Britt grinned, "Hey. Someone's gotta do it, right?"

Britt reached over his head for an extra towel from his basket of beach supplies and rubbed his head, chest, and torso down to his red and white Hawaiian palm patterned swim trunks. "Aren'tcha gonna go in?" Britt asked as he tossed the wet towel back and spread out to catch some rays himself.

"Uh, no. I'm good. Like it right here."

Britt had slipped the back of his hand over his eyes. He pulled it away, squinting, when he caught the wobble in Kato's voice. He mulled it over for a second and the result: "Oh." He intoned throatily. "Oh, don't tell me!" He sat up and regarded Kato with an open look of awed discovery. "You can't swim, can you?"

Kato tossed sand at him, "Yeah, well, don't shout it, okay? Geez!"

Britt batted the sand away, laughing in disbelief. "You know, like…12?...different martial arts and fighting styles, lift three times your weight and could take me down with one finger-because I know you did that one time, even if you didn't think it was a big deal -but you can't SWIM?"

"I'm from the middle of Hong Kong. Where would I have learned to swim?"

"Fair enough. I'll teach you."

"…What?"

"I'll teach you, c'mon." Britt went up to his knees, motioning to the water's edge. Utterly serious.

"Uhm, no. Thank you. I am good, I promise."

"No, really. You have to learn at some point. Why not at beautiful Laguna Beach? And you know everything else; to you swimming should be like turning on a light switch."

Kato pursed his lips, looking over his shoulder at the new horde of people from Britt's party coming down to the beach. He returned to Britt.

"How about some other time? I kind of don't want so many witnesses."

Britt saw the new influx as well and pointed from his hip at them. "Them? You don't have to worry—most of them can't wait to get to know you. They don't believe half the things I tell them about you."

Kato gave a ghost of a smile and stood up. "I'll be right back. I want to make a phone call."

Britt threw sand at his back in retaliation as he made his way to beach bungalows. "You wuss!" Kato gave him a choice gesture without looking back. He heard Britt guffaw.

The thin smile he sported vanished. Britt was not so sheltered that he wouldn't understand, but sheltered enough to believe it couldn't happen around him, in his circle—in his stratosphere. In fact, he had already committed the act himself. In anger, but all the same. Kato kept that memory stored for good measure. Not that he would ever dwell on it…nor did he take stock in any such emotions and thoughts himself. There was no place for racial prejudice and bias in his world. But the outside world was not grounded in gung fun or in peace and acceptance, as he was.

Kato had already heard some whisperings from the group at large—mostly the men. They tried to hide it behind their big welcoming smiles and hearty handshakes and shoulder claps. Like Britt mentioned, they were impressed by the stories he'd told them, but it was artificial at best, brewing at worst. Kato was nuanced in this; he'd faced enough when away from the Reid's in the four years he'd been in the States. He chalked the experiences up as cards in a deck, to consider and remind himself that the life he led could very well be undone by someone else's ignorance.

With his decision to attend City College in the fall for mechanical engineering and philosophy, he needed all the armor of preparation he could reap. He had agreed to attend this shindig on that logic…and on the assurances there would be more than ample adult supervision. He was twenty, Britt twenty-three…and everyone else was in between. Twenty in years, wise far beyond that, Kato understood the potentiality for a powder keg situation: alcohol, youth, and the miles from home.

Kato unlocked the door to their bungalow, which he was supposed to share with Britt and his parents. Along with a few of Britt's other closest male friends—members of the college football team. In his airy room in the back, (strategically chosen to keep an eye on the rest. Including Britt, of course), he sat down on the bed to dial his phone. The operating service for the bungalows connected him to Century City 406667.

"Reid's Residence, Jarvis speaking."

"Jarvis…it's Kato. Have the Reid's left yet?"

"Oh, no. I'm afraid not. I was just going to ring you, actually. They've been delayed: something has come up at the paper and Mrs. Reid doesn't wish to take the jet alone. They will be down on Friday, instead."

Kato swallowed, "Thank you."

"Of course. Enjoy the beach, sir." Jarvis clicked off. Kato continued to hold the receiver, staring at its mouthpieces like they were that of a huge insect. He placed it carefully on the cradle, considering this turn of events. "Right, then." He muttered and left the bungalow for the beach once more.

He took his time walking back, slipping and sliding on the sand. The sky was a robin's egg blue, cloudless. He squinted off center at the blinding white sun overhead. Only going to get hotter…. He rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly.

_Looks like the guys got a volleyball game going…_

Veered back to Britt: _Oh._

Even from a distance, he saw his friend was more than occupied. Seems he had acquired a female sun shade. Complete with overflowing blond hair, a red string bikini and adequate lip service. _Well. Crystal's here._

Crystal Monahan was Britt's on again off again girlfriend; and by girlfriend, that meant potential fiancé material, if they could ever stay on again longer than a couple of months at a time. Britt had a notorious wandering eye, and an independent streak to beat. Crystal was a beautiful spoiled advertising heiress, appropriately flighty without any potential herself. Definition: compatibility to the point of incompatibility.

They _did_ make a striking couple. Overwhelmingly so…. Kato made a face as he walked in from behind cautiously, trying to give them ample time to come up for air.

"Uh, excuse me? Hi, yeah. Sorry."

Britt finally broke free with a dazed look. He propped himself up on his elbow. Crystal snuggled into the sand up against his chest, looking very much like the cat that ate the canary.

Kato waved shortly. "Crystal. Good to see you."

"Hello, Kato."

_She even purrs like a damn cat…!_

"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt but, um, your parents are not coming until Friday."

Britt frowned, "Why?"

"Something came up at the paper. Jarvis didn't say."

Britt huffed and rolled to his back. Crystal went with him, still on his chest. She scrunched both elbows under her and leaned her chin on bunched fists. "Just like Mr. Reid." she pronounced dismissively.

"You mean I gotta corral these animals myself? Fantastic!"

"Sounds like a challenge." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as she bumped noses with him. Kato turned away just enough to roll his eyes. Britt chuckled. "Ah, hell. We'll deal. Anything else?" He tipped his head backwards at his friend, eyebrows arched.

"Er, nope. Nothing else. I'll…ah…"

"Hey, Britt! Toss your girlfriend and get over here! We need you!" His football buds crushed in on the couple and dragged Crystal off, screeching. "He-man take girl! Rawrrr!" A brute of defensive lineman carried her off over his shoulders and into the water. Kato scrunched his eyes shut on the splash of delivery. _And they say karma doesn't exist._

Three of the girls rushed over with a towel and a white coverup to help soothe and dry an enraged Crystal, spitting and hissing like any drowned cat would….

"Hey, go easy, huh?! There's no collision on that!"

The guys roared in laughter and lifted Britt into the air on their backs. "C'mon Kato!" Britt yelled from above as he was carried to the volleyball nets. Kato shook his head and jogged easily to catch up. Britt was promptly dumped to the sand so the teams could divide up. He pulled Kato next to him.

"How's your vertical leap?"

"Realistically?...Higher than any of yours."

"HA! Serves me right for asking. Alright! Get in the front and stay in the front!" He backpedaled to the far left corner of their court to be server. Kato grinned and hunkered down. He heard the _whap_! of Britt's powerful hand meeting rubber and a rocket of a serve bulldozed the air over the net. It was met by an equally powerful return volley.

The back and forth battle continued for 20 hard earned points on either side. This group was a highly competitive bunch- the types who take even the friendliest of pickup games as gladiatorial feats. Britt was among those with abrasions and brush burns across his body and hands from diving into the sand to make impressive saves and preserve the volleys. Kato performed solidly, stacking the front line with driving spikes that left the defenders fuddled and butterfingered. Admittedly, however, he was holding back; waiting and watching. With both teams tied and one more point needed to make game, Kato zeroed in on the opposing server, Jerry.

He was the same defensive lineman who'd dumped Crystal in the deep. Suitably built and on par with Britt's scorching intensity on his follow through. He held the ball out in front of him, his serving arm rising to meet the tossed release over his head. Kato tracked the ball in the same slow motion third-eye sight he tracked men with in gung fu. Trajectories ran through his head with lightning efficiency. His timing was impeccable. Kato leaped a clean eight feet in the air, over the ball's height. He tucked his body in for three tight pirouettes. As the ball crested the top of the net, Kato fell with it. His leg lashed out in a sizzling side kick. He connected bare arch with the ball, reversing its course with a dizzying back spin.

Over the net, over the heads of their opponents, and all the way into the water before any momentum was staved off. Kato landed in a tiger's crouch, reveling in the gobsmacked expressions.

Resounding applause and whistles erupted from most of the beachgoers in the vicinity of the nets. But the only thing their party could do was stare. Now, fully believing every crazy fantastical story Britt spun about his crafty friend. Some actually traced the path of the ball from Kato to where it ended up with their hands. It just wouldn't factor out! Kato smirked and turned to Britt, who stood limp limbed and equally stunned. "Told you so."

* * *

The late afternoon brought a smog of sweat, baby oil and beer to the beach, emanating from the inert Reid party. Kato was the only sober member of the merry band of misfits left standing. Literally. Even Britt was sprawled under Crystal's umbrella with her in his lap, feeling the four large Bloody Mary's he'd imbedded with very little else. That and the heat had finally put him down. Not out, however—Crystal was attempting to persuade him to share a strawberry from her fruit shesh kabab.

As result of his epic game ending gun fu exhibition, Kato was the new star attraction for all the ladies of the group. A fair amount of them were laid out at his blanket at the shoreline. Two were in direct contact, hanging off his shoulders and listening as intently as their stupor allowed as he explained some of the mechanics of gung fu. The shy boy who had tried to pick up Mr. Reid's knockout secretary was gone. American women were not shy so why should he be? With the appropriate amount of tact, of course; Britt's wanderings into rakish philanderer hadn't completely worn off on him….

"Can you really do a one handed handstand?" Jackie crooned. She was dark, a little exotic and _very_ forward. She was supposed to be here with Jerry, which she downplayed with, "I came here with him…but I'm not _with_ him." Bat-bat-bat of the eyelashes. The warnings slithered louder but he was too wrapped up in the day. He ignored that slithering for the first time in his life.

'Course I can. Wanna see?"

He promptly bounced to his feet. Without much effort at all, he was suddenly upside down, supported by one ropey-muscled arm. His legs were together in a perfect plank over him.

Jackie squealed and clapped her hands in delight. Marilyn, the other hanger-on (and supposedly here with another one of the footballers, James Smith—receiver), curled herself around him to gaze up at his face. A coquettish stare ensnared him as she murmured, "Can you show ME how to do that?"

"Ohsure. Anyone can do it. But, um," he took a long studious look at her barely there string bikini and a huge mental neon sign of: _THIS COULD GO EITHER REALLY BAD…OR REALLY GOOD_ , bombarded his brain. He decided on the former, "Perhaps not here. Later on. …The sand, you see…you have to be a little bit more experienced to do it on a shifting surface."

She lifted her shoulders off the ground and the rest of her body followed, dripping sex. Her lips brushed his cheek as she whispered in his ear, "Who says I'm not experienced?"

Kato grinned, "Not me."

She orientated her lips to his. Britt suddenly woke up a little more from Crystal's pestering with the damn strawberries. He snatched one and popped it in his mouth. "Kato!" He called around his chewing, "Are you showing off again?"

The other men roused themselves. Both girls, _of course_ , scampered back to their perspective 'dates', leaving Kato hanging. Pun intended.

"Nope." He called back, testily. "Just…hanging around."

"Jesus…" Jerry slurred, "Are you doing dat one handed?"

"Maybe."

He and several other interested friends staggered to their feet for closer examination. Jerry, Hank (offensive lineman), James and Pete (wide receiver) circled Kato.

"Crazy, man." Jerry muttered, ogling the form.

"Pssh." Hank sputtered, "I kin do that. Watchout."

He tipped his body forward, hands outstretched for ground. He instead executed a neck wrenching tumble. Howls of drunken laughter followed his abrupt landing, face down. He immediately thrust himself out of the sand like a charging bull. In a beeline for Britt, the loudest in the bunch.

"Son of a bitch-!"

Crystal yelped and spilled from Britt's lap as he was tackled. A mock tussle, then Britt had him pinned. Hank turned red in the face from the choke hold, "Bet—betcha can't do it yourself!" Britt released him. "Of course I can."

Hank sat up coughing, looking miffed. "Prove it."

"And if I do?"

"Then I don't beat your ass for choking me just now."

"Touchy, touchy…! Fine. Watch out, boys. Coming through!"

Kato watched the whole exchange with great interest, momentarily believing he might have to intercede. Then he realized the behavior was all part of a macho bonding act. He grinned and shook his head. Some things just translated cross culturally no matter what…

Still in the one handed handstand himself, with no signs of tiring, Kato looked up at Britt as his friend positioned himself for the handstand beside him. Of course Britt could do it. It had been part of his exercises with Kato. They often competed to see how long each could remain upright—Kato consistently won, even if Britt was creeping closer to outlasting him each time.

Britt tipped forward, mimicking Kato's form to a tee. His chest, back and arm was a rippling spread of brawn. "See?" He grinned. "Wasn't lying, was I? Still gonna beat my ass, Hank old boy?"

Hank sneered and shoved Britt over into Kato to eat sand.

"Yup. I think I will." Hank declared. "After 'em, boys!"

"Ohhh shhiit!" Britt yanked Kato to his feet. "On my shoulders."

"What!?"

"Get on my shoulders, c'mon!"

"Whatever you say…!"

Britt ran along the shoreline with Kato on his back and the entirety of the football team behind them, screaming like banshees. The girls trailed behind, bent over in laughter and cheering the whole madcap scene on. The rest of the beach turned a bewildered eye…only the beginning, folks.

* * *

By night fall, the stash of alcoholic beverages was exhausted. The retreat back to the bungalows to figure out what the hell they were going to do about that finished and began with much staggering and disorder. Sunburns ran from mild to _shake and_ _baked._ Tempers also ran short. After several arguments among the men and their women, the women huffed off to bed. Unwilling to stick around the buffoons.

Britt had half of the team and a couple childhood-friend stragglers passed out in his bungalow's kitchen area, demanding food and more booze.

"Alright, alright! What a minute!" He yelled over the buzz, "Lookit. We're out of booze, okay? So how about we just go pass out…and we'll phone more in tomorrow morning, cool?"

"Bahhh!"

"Jesus, ya buncha lushes. Fine! Get outta here! Go on!" Britt bums rushed them out, until he remembered a good portion were actually supposed to stay there. He thought about calling them back, decided thinking kinda hurt and dragged himself to bed instead. Crystal's tousled hair lay strewn across his pillow as she took up half the bed.

"'Ey. Move it."

She moaned and moved over. Britt stripped off his swim trucks and pulled on boxers instead, leaving his top half bare because he had an A-1 sunburn that especially hated the contact of the sheets, let alone any shirt.

"Ow." Rustling to find a more comfortable position woke Crystal up. She casually draped herself across his body, kissing his neck and shoulders. "Yow, hey! Easy." he whispered. "What?" she murmured, a smile tinting her voice.

She continued the kisses, finding her way to his mouth. Britt made a noise in the back of his throat and immediately pushed himself up to linger over her.

"You're really askin' for it, you know that?"

"Mmmm, think I can take it." A nail drew itself from his navel to his chest.

"Oh yeah?"

He made her come to him for another kiss. Both equally hungry for more and with very little fabric between them, the inevitable was upon them.

The onset of strangled yells and whooping calls from the beach front outside abruptly stalled this inevitability… to evitable.

"Britt…!" She whined. But Britt had vaulted from the bed, his head to the side to listen more intently. He thought he recognized at least some of those yells….

The first of the fireworks displays obliterated any competing turmoil, blanketing the beach in a cacophony of color and rolling reports.

From his room, he rushed to Kato's, adjacent to his. The bed was empty, untouched. Something clicked in the pit of his stomach. Dread emptied itself into his blood stream. Oh no.

He ran through the bungalow, leaping over items of furniture, for the bamboo door. He braked on a dime, skidding under the onslaught of brilliant falling blue and green starpoints. His eyes responded to the urgent call for night vision as he blinked wildly to pinpoint the source around the lulls of fiery light. Further down the beach.

Crystal huffed her way to stand behind him, pulling a thigh length kimono around her in a pout. "What's going on? What's the matter with you!" She covered eyes against the next eruption overhead: red streaking meteors into the water's horizon.

Britt put a palm in her face for her to be quiet. She responded with an indignant sigh. He need to be sure. He listened again, before the next round of pyro techniques, for the yells he thought he recognized. When he heard one cut across the other more stumbling sounds of laughter and slurred egging on, he was painfully validated. "Call the police."

His grimace was starkly outlined against the white and gold salvos flying across the sky like mini bombs.

Crystal's arms unfolded themselves in surprise. 'What?" she gasped.

Britt took off, legs pumping like pistons. "CALL THE POLICE, NOW."

The water blurred as he pounded the frothy edge towards the fray. Orange and red streaks from above painted him in eerie war paint. The guys he had thrown out of his bungalow evidently hadn't passed out like he ordered them to…

Four were actively dragging their victim from the deep, beating him. A brief interlude of holding the figure under before dragging him back to the surface for more. The rest formed a tight circle around them, acting as buffers to toss bodies back into the ring and to stop any attempts to escape.

Because their victim wasn't going down quietly.

Britt breathed in controlled bursts, building up momentum for the moment when he'd have to jump. Coming up behind the group too wrapped up in their drunken bloodlust to notice, he planted his feet down for the gathered release into the air. Almost as high as Kato had flown that afternoon. As he reached the apex of his leap, the black night sky mushroomed into pandemonium of every color possible under thunderous echoing booms.

He took two out on the outer ring and three of the fighters on his landing. He threw harrowing punches, breaking faces and noses on each; threw whole bodies into the waves when the brawlers decided they didn't like his tactics and slammed accordingly into him.

The manic fury he'd bottled up from the day Kato sat him down for his first meditation coursed like red hot lava to the surface, imbuing his actions with a lust for vengeance unlike any of which he had known before. When all offending bodies were groaning and bloody, he felt someone grab his cocked arm to staunch its next blow.

He rounded on Kato, found him soaked to the bone. Head bleeding in copious amounts. His mouth was split and his nose dripped thick red globules. Britt took in his condition white lipped, before spinning on the would-be lynch mob.

"THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU ASSHOLES?! The need to yell in release replaced the need to hit. Even so, he hauled Jerry, the main culprit and the most severely beaten in return, to his feet. Shirt material ripped in Britt's vice grip as he yanked him into the moon slivered depths. He shoved Jerry's head under, throttling him repeatedly.

" _Britt, STOP_."

He ignored Kato. Jerry gulped precious air while he could. Britt twisted the man's t-shirt up around his neck, momentarily choking him into submission.

"You better tell me right now, before the cops get here, why the hell you tried to kill him." His voice was malice soaked.

"He-he was messing around with our women the entire day!" Jerry spat out along with water. "Showing off! I couldn't find Jackie after you tossed us from your bungalow, so I went looking. AND THERE HE WAS! TOUCHING HER!"

"I was steadying her, nothing more." Kato tried to explain. "She was very drunk, I was afraid she would fall into the water."

"YOU WERE FUCKING TOUCHING HER!" Jerry bellowed, struggling. Britt slammed him into the surf hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs.

"Lay off, Britt! This ain't your affair!" Hank's muffled voice interrupted. He staggered towards Britt with blood gushing through his fingers from his shattered nose.

"IT IS MY AFFAIR."

"Goddamnit, what do you care about a damn trained pet monkey like him?! Thinking he's all uppity and shit! We beat his yellow face in to teach him a lesson on whose who, here! You should be _glad_ we did!"

Britt tossed Jerry aside and rushed Hank. His face was contorted under the white heat of open rage. He drew back his fist to deliver the knockout blow, laying Hank out stone cold.

"YOU SON'S OF BITCHES!"

Kato restrained Britt as the police and ambulance sirens sailed closer on the boardwalk. "Alright, alright…! You proved your point." He added in a whisper. The muscles under hand slacked. Britt sagged then slipped down to the sand. Red, blue and white strobe lights swept the beach. Kato sat with him, awaiting the true end of the warnings he had so blithely chosen to ignore.

* * *

The jail cell door clanged shut, its key locking and slipping back into the pocket of the sheriff deputy who brought them in. He didn't bother to give either of them a second glance.

Kato moved to the shadows his cell. He stretched out on the cot, scratching at the bandage on his forehead. The stitches underneath were outrageously itchy. Britt was across the way, morose.

"I cannot believe this is happening." Britt muttered, still incredulous. His head remained resolutely in his hands. He'd repeated that same sentence four times on the ride in and now twice, in-cell.

"The guy who throws the second punch always gets pinched."

"…More than two punches were thrown, Kato."

"Really? I wasn't counting." His droll attitude brought a small sustained grin to Britt's otherwise haggard features.

"Are you okay?" Britt leaned back against the wall, feeling the bite of shirt against raw sunburn.

A grunt. "Stupid beer bottle. I'm still kicking myself I let them get one up on me in the first place. On the bright side, I learned how to swim."

Britt laughed as heartily as he did the night Kato saved his wasted self from the Glenn Conners' boys. "You're insane. You have to be! How does anyone learn to swim when they're being _**drowned**!_ "

"Then we are both insane, how's that?" He continued, "Necessity is the father of innovation. I haven't worked out all the kinks yet…but at least now I can see why they call it the doggy paddle _."_

"No, but…seriously. Are you okay? That got you pretty good."

Kato paused on his choice of words. "Heh. So the tables have turned, huh? Yes, I'm fine. I'm always fine."

"…They're getting off scot-free, **_without a single assault charge_**! Instead, we get tossed in here because I stopped them from killing you. And for inciting a riot?!  _ **WHAT**_ riot? Does _**ANY**_ of this make _**ANY**_ sense?"

"There's no use getting upset about it now. I told you: the guy who throws the second punch always gets caught."

"It's _**BULLSHIT**_!"

From the outer office of this waystation, they heard their arresting office bark for quiet. Britt made a face and hung his head once more.

"I'll say one thing," Kato spoke up in the ensuing silence. "You finished those punches perfectly: the impact ended behind your opponent, not **_at_ ** him. Just like I taught you."

Britt considered this with absurd matter-of-fact clarity, "Yeah…they were perfect, weren't they?"

"Broke every body part you hit."

That made Britt chuckle with equal depravity. "They did, at that."

Kato drew his legs under him to quiet his racing mind. Britt shifted his position on his cot so only a shoulder blade touched the wall, lessening the pulsating thrum of burned skin.

"I am sorry."

Britt frowned when he looked across the way, trying to see Kato in his cell. "What do you mean, _you're sorry_." He tracked his eyes back to the inside of his cell, staring hard into the floor. "Not your fault I hung with a bunch of racist sonsabitch bastards for the better part of five years without even an inkling. _My fault_."

"But I knew this was going to happen."

That gave Britt a start and he shot another searching gaze into Kato's cell. " ** _Knew_** it was going to happen?" He questioned, confused.

"Yeah…." He replied quietly. Springs shifted loudly. "I, uhm, had a feeling. Earlier today, when I went to call about your parents."

"A feeling." Skepticism.

"Didn't want to say anything about it to you because I knew you would not believe me…and because you were having such a good time."

Britt eased off the cot to hang on the jail cells bars, to be closer to Kato. "Do you get these… **' _feelings_ '** often?"

He could almost picture the blossoming look of dumbstruck acceptance across Kato's face.

"Er, yeah." He answered quickly. "I do. My entire life. I have always listened to them and they have always served me will. Until tonight." He stopped talking, to bow his head in regret, which Britt couldn't see but would hear well enough. "I did not listen tonight. I should have. I should have walked away this afternoon, when I first heard your friends…talking and muttering under breath. Would have saved us all a lot of trouble."

"…then from now on we listen to them. And they are _**not**_ my friends." He appreciated the gentle reassurance in his friend's voice.

"Doesn't help us now. Does it?"

Britt turned away from the bars and leaned forward, strong-armed, on his bed. The sprung springs complained. "Nope. …I just can't get over how I didn't SEE it _myself!_ I'm…not blind, I'm usually pretty broadminded…."

"I'll say. **_You_ ** were upset Ms. Case turned down your invite." He whistled at the prospect of the opposite having occurred, an attempt at levity Britt appreciated.

"I doubt we'll be seeing Crystal around much…."

"She wasn't involved. She has nothing to worry about."

Britt harrumphed. "Uhm. No. But when I first heard the fight, we, uh…we were kinda…"

Kato had heard enough and his, " _ **Oh**." _ carried all the weight Britt needed to see he understood. " ** _Yeah_**." He applied the same weight to his reply and rubbed his neck bashfully. "So…maybe I was _too_ broad minded, I dunno…."

Kato picked up on Britt's nosedive back to bleak self-loathing. He leaned forward to speak at the cells bars. "Britt." He was firm yet moderate. Although he couldn't tell for sure Britt was listening, he went on as if he was, "Intolerance and prejudice like you saw tonight is nothing new to me. One never knows where one will find it. Sometimes it is right under your nose, festering. You couldn't have stopped them. I couldn't—hate like that flows like an everlasting spring. I knew…there was some chance you would have to face this thing too, because of me—I knew you would understand it but not believe it could happen to you. Now you know it is there; that is half the battle. The other is combating that. I don't know how to do that except to live my life as any other human being. I can't stop how others view me and if they hate me because of who I am…." He shrugged. "That too, is out of my power. We do what we can now…because change is coming. We can be part of that new wave, can't we?"

Kato heard Britt move from his cot again, hands grasping at the bars. "I can get behind that: one hundred percent."

The quiet confidence in his affirmation was encouraging.

"…When we get out of here, and if Dad'll even speak to me, I'll have him start of series of editorials in the Sentinel, on racism in America. We have enough facts right here to knock out some teeth and blacken some eyes, _legally._ "

Kato grinned. "That's a good start."

"What else? There's something else."

"Yes…try not to kill anyone on my behalf, okay? I can't have that on my conscious—the things I've taught you, the power you have innately, I don't want you to kill with them. You might think you can kill a man for what happened here tonight…but doing so is another thing entirely. Don't ever go down that road. Promise me that."

"I promise."

Kato finally pulled himself from the shadows and they faced each other at the bars. Britt inwardly grew angry that men he had called brothers could do such devastating damage to the one person who really was like brother.

"You do realize," Kato leaned his shoulder into the cool metal, looking insanely collected and composed considering, "That the minute you jumped in and saved my life, an unspoken vow was taken."

"Huh?"

Kato nodded, "From that moment, I'm on a blood oath to protect you."

"But you're already my bodyguard."

"This is different. This one…is on pain of death, for the rest of your life and the rest of my life. Whichever ends first."

Britt was floored, uncomfortable even. "Uhm, that's…wow. Really?" He almost squeaked.

Kato grinned, "Yeah. Really."

"Why?"

Shrug. "Tradition. I didn't just make it up, if that's what you're thinking."

"Well, no, obviously…. I didn't know, that's all. I'm not used to have somebody on pain of death protection detail for the rest of their life and the rest of my life."

Kato turned into the bars, dead set in solemnity. "Neither am I. I have defended many people and much honor. I have been beaten within an inch of my life for doing so. But I have never had anyone defend me, or fight for me, as you did tonight. I didn't know what I was going to do about that. This…is the only thing I can think of."

Britt blinked at him, before taking up a similar cool, composed lean on the bars. "Is there anything I have to say to make it official?"

"Just that you accept."

That should have been easy, except an up swell of emotion he didn't expect caught the words in his throat. This had been one hell of a day.

"I accept."

Kato's eyes were bright, "Thank you." And then he was wavering, turning back to the cot. "If you don't mind. My head hurts. I have the worst sunburn…and I'm pretty sure I have a contact high from the amount of alcohol stewed about today. Wake me up if anything happens."

"Like if we get sprung, pardner?"

"...cowboy now?"

"Why not? I'm the great nephew of the Lone Ranger. Did you know that? It's in my blood."

"…din' know that." Kato was drifting, "Wore a mask, rode a white horse? Got the girl."

"Something like that."

"Well, don't go off into the sunset without me…."

Britt smiled as Kato finally slid under the cobwebs of the day for some honest rest. "Not a chance."


	5. Playing For Keeps

_Saturday_

_May 4, 1968_

* * *

At dawn, the Black Dragon closed the fights. He paid out winnings discreetly before returning to the temple to remove signs of his presence. Upon entering (rather boldly) through the huge front doors, completely confident the very early morning hours were adequate cover, he immediately sensed a difference in the air. Rays of weak sunlight filtered through the windows, highlighting a flurry of dust particles hanging lazily. His steps were that of cat, without the patter of feet on carpet and tile. He trusted his gut feeling; it said friend (as much as the term and its connotations were allowed to pertain to his relationships), not foe.

He paused on the staircase to give the party a chance to show themselves. They didn't, instead choosing to watch him ascend the stairs. His back was absolutely straight and shoulders perfectly squared. He calmly faced the tapestry of his curled black dragon amidst its own smoke and fire. The wide spread of his knuckles as he carefully took up the tapestry proved that these were the deadly hands of an accomplished fighter. They were not bunched in anger or violence now. Instead, were almost caressing his namesake's banner as he lowered it to the floor. Folding it as one would a beloved sacrament, the tingling of eyes boring into his back increased.

He hugged the tapestry loosely to his body and dropped his chin to his chest with a knowing smile. Or, at least, bared his teeth in what constituted any of his smiles.

"Brother, a game of hide and seek I will not play. Show yourself, so I may greet you not as a stranger."

From the wings, a figure dressed in a black business suit appeared. Crisp and unruffled, his black eyes glinted in overt respect for the man he was literally looking up to.

"Lao Yin," the Black Dragon spoke the name with quiet disdain. The man always took this as a complement, because it wasn't offensive coming from such a visionary. "Hiding in the shadows still…."

"I find the view uncluttered, unfiltered."

Black Dragon faced his only real and true ally. The trust between the two was naturally muted but mutual. It was beneficial for both to maintain the relationship as it was.

"What do you see from these shadows?"

Lao Yin paused to lean back on his heels thoughtfully, hands folded before him.

"I see…," he began, "I see the power of one man reaching out to vanquish all before him…and succeeding."

Black Dragon gazed at Lao Yin, employing his sharp eye for empty flattery. He accepted the words at face value, taking the stairs like a spider descending from its web-and Lao Yin his willing feast.

"What of your place in all this, Lao Yin? Are you…playing games too, from your shadows?" Lao Yin stepped back from the glowering presence of his master to bow deeply in profound honor. "No games, Cānglóng. It is the duty I feel to you and this enterprise that drives me. I only stand in the shadows so I may watch and observe all _, for you._ No one may come between you and your ultimate goal—I will assure this."

Cānglóng raised him from his bow to lead this nascent partner to the back door of the temple. "Then we have much to discuss."

"Much indeed," Lao Yin agreed, "My car awaits you, Shīfu." He opened the door for the Black Dragon, brilliant morning sunlight overtaking them.

* * *

Kato returned sometime in the night. Whether he'd slept or stayed up in meditation, he was in no mood to discuss it and Britt knew not to push.

As Britt prepared to leave for the Sentinel, Kato appeared beside him to quietly request time to do more digging on the whereabouts of his master. Britt agreed, gently reminding him he needn't ask. Kato nodded with a stiff upper lip. Britt called to him as he opened the front door.

"Be careful. If you need anything, call me. But…well, you know that, so good luck."

Kato opened his mouth to reply. The words died on his tongue. Instead, merely chose to nod and whisper 'thank you'.

Outside the front door, he had left a small duffle bag. Inside, the uniform he wore as the Green Hornet's companion. Picking it without breaking step, he went on to his car. He would not return until the job was finished.

The fights, if they'd begun, would be over. That is, assuming Jimmy's information on this Black Dragon was good. Even so, Kato would relish in the satisfaction of knowing his way of life would no longer be tarnished by barbaric to-the-death street brawls.

He had seen and participated in such fights as a young teen. There were tournaments, too, sponsored by wealthy patrons. These 'patrons' always swore their chief desires were to better the art of gung fu and perpetually professed their own devout studiousness. Their 'dedication' was towards honing the body for killing. They became the 'best' when all rivals were dead.

The memories Kato had of his own life and death experiences in the streets of Hong Kong and in the fight yards of the elite, remained vivid. A particular tourney, at the estate of a prolific narcotics dealer, in a room of mirrors….

Kato gripped his steering wheel harder.

It was his Shīfu who had taken him in afterwards. Yip Man cleaned Kato's wounds and nursed him back to health. He quietly listened to Kato's attempts to explain himself and his decision to heed the invitation to the tournament. A choice he'd risked in contradiction to his Shīfu's express command for all his students to stay far away from these blood baths. Kato went to his knees for forgiveness from his master over the dishonor he had paid him. His Master merely sat back to look over his favorite pupil fondly. His smile had been so sad and distant.

"What you have learned, Hayashi, I could never teach you. I had wished to spare you this lesson. The payment is so high. I see now, you realize this. Remember it well."

It was not long after this that Shīfu Man introduced Kato to Mr. Henry Reid, a wealthy, influential newspaper publisher from America. Through a series of events that most certainly began with his Master's realizing his young apprentice was not safe now that his talents were suddenly well-known and sought after for the wrong reasons, Kato was on a plane bound for the States with the elder Reid. He landed in Century City a brooding careful young man. Thrust into a life he had to learn to love and cherish. He eventually opened himself to the opportunity. Sometimes it knocked him down. Other times he floated on it. The brotherhood he found in Britt Reid was the supreme accumulation of this journey. From poor Hong Kong street orphan to full-fledged US citizen, personal bodyguard and confident to one of the richest men in America, there was only one thing he could change: Henry Reid's survival. How much that single event could have headed off….

Kato had a chance to prevent the downfall of another Reid. Stacked up against blood oaths, competing promises and a lifetime's worth of memories, the only option was forgetting the lessons of the past.

Toe the line of morality and honor.

 _Dis_ honor would lie solely in allowing Cānglóng to continue.

* * *

Britt tapped his pencil eraser on desk top as he waited for his chief city room editor Gunnigan to return to the phone with the requested item.

"Boss?" Gunnigan grunted into the receiver.

"Yeah, Gunnigan?"

"I have it here. Axford trying to pull another fast one, eh Boss?" A hearty chuckle that descended into a hacking cough, then into embarrassed sputtering when Britt didn't respond. Finally a curt, "Eh, um, so kill it?"

Britt tapped his pencil eraser harder, "No. Send it up to me. I'll talk to Axford and see", he sighed and dropped his pencil, "If I can't… _reason_ with him. The evening paper goes out as is, minus this story. Send it up to me as soon as you can."

"Will do, Boss."

Britt hung up and sat back in his chair, his mouth pressed into a thoroughly irritated line. He snatched the phone up again and rang Mike Axford's desk. Axford was his senior police reporter and resident newshound, especially with anything to do with the Green Hornet. Which, for Mike…was every story he thought he had and _didn't have_. Like today's little quasi-journalistic escapade….

Britt craned his neck back over his seat to watch out his office window as Axford jumped a little in his desk chair at the phone's ringing. His shoulder's slumped in gloom when he answered, knowing full well the jig was up: he'd been caught. No matter how many invocations of time's spent with Britt as a child, of being as much a father to him as the Elder Reid had been, there was no brushing over the huge error in judgment he'd made.

"Axford, here."

"My office: now."

Axford muttered a 'right away' and hung up. In her outer office, Britt's secretary and confidante, Lenore 'Casey' Case, paused her typing to get up and usher him in, feeling just a little bit sorry for him. The old dog had tried a new trick, and boy, did it backfire…!

"Axford, Mr. Reid." She held the door for the older man, her cat eyes and pretty features falling accordingly as Axford looked every bit his years.

"Thank you, Ms. Case."

Casey closed the door, wincing. Yep, Britt was furious….

More than a few curious eyes and strained necks were ogling for a view of the man office. She frowned and shook her head at the ones she could see. Most, however, continued to jockey for position.

Britt had had a rough night, little sleep. Hours spent awake, worrying about Kato and the creeping suspicion that their work as the Green Hornet and Co. had finally caught up with them somehow. That Kato had decided to handle it himself, in his way. But then, Kato didn't lie to Britt or anyone…even when it might behoove him to do so. So, then maybe there was trouble. If that was the case, Britt would have to continue swallowing these worries and let things be as they may. He would have PREFERRED dealing with any such problems together. That's how they operated. In fact, Britt knew that if it was the other way around, Kato would poke and prod in that subtly irritating fashion he so masterfully manipulated, until Britt would give up and out to his partner's help.

For Kato to be so obstinate, brought three logical pathways of reasoning to mind: 1) really important to him, personally; 2) probably more ornately dangerous than the usual, i.e. heavy gung fu involved or 3), it really wasn't any of Britt's damn business but Kato was just being nice about it. In that vein, Britt countered himself, Kato helping him strike out against the criminal element was never officially his business, but look where that got him….

Unfortunately, Kato was a ghost-no traces, no trails to follow, no clues. Britt wouldn't expect anything less from Kato. He had hoped to get on the phone to the Golden Lotus Café and speak with Jimmy Kee about the discussion that prompted all this. He also wanted to ask Casey if she noticed anything peculiar last night at Jimmy Kee's welcome home party. In fact, he had gone to Casey first thing to do just that, when she lowered the proverbial axe: Mike Axford had missed his deadline for the morning edition and instead promised to have it ready for the evening instead. Normally, that would have been fine by Britt…however…why would an expose on ill-timed and unfinished construction work around the city take so long, when more than ample time had been given?

The kicker: Axford WASN'T writing about ill-timed, unfinished construction projects dotting the cityscape. No…in his infinitely troublesome newshound logic, was instead writing about THE GREEN HORNET'S LOVE CHILD WITH GOTHAM CITY'S NOTORIOUS CAT WOMAN.

Britt had weakly repeated that precise sentence back to Casey. Bless her for having good sense and sublime kindness enough not to break down into an uncontrollable fit of hysterics. Not only at Axford, but at Britt's absolutely THUNDRSTRUCK expression.

In one sense, it was hilarity no one but Mike could create, but not in the sense of staking the Sentinel's sterling reputation on! And, because she herself was privy to Britt's secret identity as the Green Hornet, and knew it just wasn't true.

But…imagine! A love child with the Catwoman!

"I hear she's very attractive!" Casey had teased, batting her own eyes at him in mock seduction. Britt was certain it was ten times better than what the CATWOMAN could ever produce…. She eased up on him when he began looking positively sick.

"Where in God's name did he get this crazy idea?! Who'd he talk to? Doesn't he REALIZE how RIDICULOUS this is?!" Britt gave up and flopped back in his chair, reeling from this near miss.

Casey sighed and leaned against his desk. "I dunno. I called Gunnigan and had him hold the story til you called. …Y'know," she added after mulling it over for a moment, "I think he's been working on this story for a while. Remember when he took that 'vacation' about two months back? Didn't say where he was going but as a 'loyal and tireless senior member of the reporter corp (eye roll), he deserved it'. End quote. I bet…he went to Gotham and gathered all his 'facts'." Air quotes around 'facts'….

"You're not helping." Britt groaned. "Maybe…he's gone senile or something…." He was finally at a loss for words. Not to mention extremely disappointed in Axford's lack of any common sense. Of course, Britt conceded, in Axford's blind hatred for the Green Hornet, _anything_ was possible.

"This has NOT been my morning." Britt slapped his desktop and rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out the best course of action. When his eyes cleared of their blurriness, he saw Casey had put all kidding and teasing aside. She watched him, instead, with sincere concern.

"Are you okay? Is there anything wrong? You've been distracted all morning."

"Are you my second police news hound, now?" His most charming smile naturally downplayed her correct deduction.

"No, I know when something's bothering you." She smartly tapped her forehead with her pencil eraser. "Years of honing my 'Britt Reid Is In Trouble" antennae.

"Ah, I see. How technical." Britt grinned. "Actually…you're right. Something is wrong…or could be wrong, I don't know exactly. I'll talk to you about it later. For now," He grimaced, "Let's attend to this mess first."

So, here they were now, attending to the mess. Axford sat down-slumped, really, in utter defeat. After several moments of very pregnant silence, Britt spoke just above a whisper, "You've really done it this time, Mike."

Axford grew to an almost- puddle in his seat.

"It's one thing, Mike, to make a fool of yourself. It's another…to come even REMOTELY close to making the Daily Sentinel the laughing stock of the city. This?" He picked up the pages of the story and promptly crumpled them into a tight wad. A slam dunk in the garbage can followed.

"Belongs right where it is."

He waited for a reaction. Axford could only wring his hands.

"I mean, Mike…at what point did you think this was good journalism? That it had any shred of evidenced-backed facts? Some hack tabloid like the National Discreditor might jump at it but…you? The Daily Sentinel? C'mon!"

Axford swallowed and flung his hands apart to make his case. "Britt, please! I thought I had somethin'! I even went to Gotham. Spoke to people with Underworld connections! They claimed-!"

Britt pointed at him, cutting him off, "There! You even said it yourself— _claimed._ If you can't back up or even believe your own story one hundred percent, then why pursue it?"

"Alright, alright!" Axford sprung from his chair. His sparse red hair was twisted up every which way. The brown sport coat that was his trademark attire was more heavily rumpled than usual. Britt maintained his stony exterior but really, he was cringing at the sudden age and wear and tear Mike was sporting this particular crisis. He often forgot…that he was closer to being without Mike than he was to having him around for many years to come.

Axford turned on his heel and rushed the desk, planting his palms into the hardwood in complete supplication: "I was desperate, Britt. I can admit to that, too. I thought I could at least make a good show of it! Ain't nothing been happening in this town in a dog's age. _This…_ was something I could sink my teeth into! I didn't think twice…I just did it."

He hung his head with a shuddering sigh. Britt's gaze softened from hard gray to the usual aquamarine warmth. He motioned with a gentle push back for Mike to sit down. The older man returned to his dejected slump into the seat cushion. Britt came around the desk to sit on the edge.

"Mike", he began lightly, "Why didn't you come to me if you felt that bored? Any one of the guys could have handled the construction story—I just thought you'd do it best. Still, I could have found something else."

"Bah! Doesn't matter now."

 _Here comes the self-pity…. "_ Look," Britt scratched his forehead, "I'm not… _really_ angry with you."

Axford perked up a notch. Britt tempered the hopeful gleam with, "That is to say, I _am_ angry you didn't think about the paper before running off into near disaster territory…And about you lying to me…that hurt the most. You said you were working on the construction article when you really weren't…and then there was the forging of my signature for the go-ahead to print your fiasco there." He motioned with his chin to the garbage can.

Mike was looking slightly greener around the gills. "Ah…yeeaahh…I guess-."

Britt continued on over him, forcing Axford to swallow the rest of his excuse.

"It's the things you did…that make me angry. Not you, personally. I don't know why or how you thought this was going to work—and even if it did, to what end? Your name, my name and the Daily Sentinel's name would be mud. But that, thankfully, didn't happen."

Britt reached out to grip Mike by the shoulder, bringing him around with a genuinely affectionate smile, "Don't lie to me, Mike. Or go behind my back. I can handle your crazy schemes, even if they're near fatal ones like this, but not lying."

Axford blinked three times in slow realization that he wasn't fired, skinned alive or otherwise disavowed. Britt chuckled at the expression, "That's right: you made it outta this one alive."

Axford straightened and plucked at his collar, daring to breathe again. He stood to shake Britt's hand, trying not to wobble. "I'm sorry, Britt. On my honor, on yer parent's graves even, this won't happen again. I, uh, I was tricked—bamboozled! The crowd the Hornet hangs with is a clever bunch!"

Britt gave a trite smile. "Right…well then." He moved off the edge of his desk, pulling at his tailored suit as he moved. "So," he beckoned Axford to follow him to the outer office. "Do you have _anything_ written or researched for the construction expose?"

Axford mentally ticked off what he had as he followed Britt through the door. Casey paused in her work to listen.

"Erm, some."

"But not enough for a full spread."

"No, but I'll get right on it!"

Just like that, the ol' spark of bulldog tenacity was back. He bustled out of the main office in his usual flair, rattling hinges and glass. He bounced to his desk, snatched his hat and overcoat to practically fly to the elevators.

Britt and Casey flinched at the rattling but smiled his bouncy flight from the newsroom. Casey leaned back in her seat and played her pencil between her fingers, "That went very well, I take it."

Britt shrugged, "Well…I think, once he heard the whole plan from somebody else's point of view, he realized-."

"…that the Catwoman just COULDN'T be the Green Hornet's type." A finely shaped eyebrow arched in a suggestive play of expression, her mouth following with a very familiar smile.

Britt titled his head at her, her boldness never ceasing to amuse or surprise him. The very same smile appeared on him and if the setting had been right, he might have been more game for the chase himself. However, they were in full view of the city room and…well…the rumor mills needn't any more fuel or confirmation, did they?

"Among other things", he responded simply. A few more seconds of her entrancing gaze before she finally released him. "Wouldn't it be funny", she mused as she tidied up her pages into a more ordered pile, "If we're all crazy and Mike's actually the sane one?"

Britt made a face, "That's not even remotely funny. Why would you say something like that?"

She laughed. He held his hand out to her and motioned with his head, to the city room. "C'mon. I need a drink."

Casey feigned shock, accepting his hand up. "This early? I thought even Britt Reid had rules about that!"

"Not that kind of drink—although, if today continues going the way it has, I just might consider it."

* * *

Coffee and donuts in hand, the two picked a table in the farthest reaches of the first-floor commissary. Away from prying eyes and ears for the most part, but let's face it: anywhere they went together in the Sentinel, eyes sparkled knowingly and tags wagged.

The lunch rush was over for the most part, and these corner seats were almost always the last taken because they only accommodated two people. Casey smiled conspiratorially to herself as she watched Britt take surreptitious glances in search for potential eavesdroppers. What a sight they made—everyone was aware of their mutual attraction, so they must be figuring the boss had finally made a move the secretary accepted.

 _They_ could never and would never know the real truth and depth of their relationship.

Casey sipped her coffee and nibble on her pastry, waiting for Britt. He played with his coffee cup a moment longer before speaking, "Something's going on with Kato."

For its simplicity in structure, the sentence carried such raw weight and worry that Casey was taken aback.

She put her cup down and splayed her hands on the table. "…Well, what do you mean?"

Britt didn't reply, now toying with his saucer.

"…Are-are they giving him a hard time again, about staying on with you. Or-?" She prompted. Knowing full well of the argument Kato had had with Jimmy Kee and Mary Chang previously about his employment status, she was free to use a general 'they' and still have him know who she spoke of.

Britt sat back abruptly, obviously full of nervous energy, as evidenced by the gnawing on his lower lip. Casey realized then that even Britt couldn't pin down his best friend's troubles and _that_ …was something very new and kind of frightening.

"It started with that, I think. Actually, it was that welcome home party for Jimmy Kee last night. Do you remember how Kato and Jimmy left together? And only Jimmy came back right away?"

"Yes, come to think of it, I do remember that. And then Kato came back…."

She paused in recollection. Britt finished for her, "Looking very different: he was scared."

Casey curled her fingers in an involuntary spasm. She swallowed, repeating: "Scared?"

Fear and Kato did not compute for her, at all. In the ten plus years she had known him, she had never once seen the emotional response of fear cross his features: she couldn't even imagine what it would look like on him.

"…IIII don't know about fear. I mean, grant it, it's hard to read Kato."

Britt's grin was wry, "Yes. It is. But," He leaned forward in contemplation, "I've seen him scared. I've seen him perturbed, anxious; worried. Whatever Jimmy told him, hit him hard."

"What did Jimmy tell him, do you know?"

He sighed and swirled his coffee. "…That Jimmy stayed with Kato's old Master on his studies overseas…and some 'rough characters' began hanging around. He named a man called Lao Yin—possibly their leader. He doesn't know how it ended, neither does Jimmy but Kato isn't too hopeful. He thinks he might have to go to Hong Kong."

Britt was crestfallen as he downed the liquid in two gulps.

"And you don't want him to go."

He looked up from his tabletop inspection to find her reading him like an open book, as usual. He could be open with her because not many things went unsaid between them. Except, perhaps, the most important thing that would make their relationship 'normal.'

"No, I don't."

"Why?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't need your advice."

"Oh. Sorry."

Britt rebuked himself with a mental backhand. "I didn't mean to snap, I'm sorry." He roughed his hair with a hard back and forth combing of fingers" …The real… _issue_ is he doesn't want to let me help him. I don't think it's all about his Master being in possible danger. Maybe it is and I can't read him anymore. But last night I saw a look in his eye I have never seen before on him, even as the Green Hornet's companion."

"…What was it?"

"A thirst for vengeance."

Casey drew back in her seat. She took a sip of coffee to cover for her lack of response. Britt would know and read correctly such a visceral emotion. He was the expert.

"So, what does this mean? Did he give you anything else?"

"No. He's gone. Left this morning and I haven't heard from him. If he's back at the apartment, he's not answering the phone and that's totally unlike him."

"Gone. Just…left? To where?"

"Trying to dig up leads from this end. He asked me if it was okay to do this, I said of course…now I'm not so sure."

"How can I help?"

The tension across his back lessened—her sympathy lifting the weight away. "He says he has to do this alone, that if these men are who he thinks they are, it'll be too dangerous for me to get involved. But that's the point: if it _is_ dangerous, I have to be there for him. Everything we've done since that night he saved my life for the first time, it's been right down the line between us. How can he expect me to just sit back the moment he needs support of his own? Something doesn't feel right about any of this…and he's completely shutting down on me." Britt took a breath, hands closing around the coffee cup. "Do I sit back…and let him do this—whatever it is, alone, or do I jump in?"

Casey considered him carefully, resisting the urge to lean in and take his hand. "I think you know the answer already."

But that's not wanted he wanted to hear. His shoulders sagged. "Yes, but I really can't stand it or myself."

"If Kato has a genuine fear of you getting hurt or even killed, you have to respect that. Haven't all of his crazy gut-feelings played out right? You swore to listen to him and it hasn't failed you yet."

Britt harrumphed, "We've sworn a lot of things. We have so many promises, vows, and even a blood oath against us that something that should be black and white has become so convoluted, I feel like I'm drowning under it."

Casey smiled sadly as he worked out the kinks of his problem all alone: "Now don't you think that maybe it's _possible_ …Kato is feeling the same way?"

Britt tilted his head on an upward angle, blinking hard. He _hadn't_ considered this. She couldn't believe _that_ …! "I mean, I'm sure you've beaten the issue as hard as you're beating yourself up right now. You know Kato, you know how _he thinks._ Most of all, you know how he feels about you: the same way you feel about him. If he feels the need to go into this alone in order to protect you or shield you from some inherent ugliness, then…how can you throw the very trust we two have in each other back in his face?"

"Trust isn't the issue." He cautioned quickly.

"But isn't it? You can't trust him enough to let him do something he feels he must do alone, without getting involved?"

"No, not at all. That's not it!" Color was creeping up in his cheeks. Casey hastily glanced around before daring to do the very thing she had restrained herself from doing before: she reached out and took his hand.

"Britt, please. You asked for my advice. I'm giving it! Respect and honor your trust in him; if in time he needs you, he'll come back. He'll come back no matter what before long as it is, but I'm saying that if he needs you after all, he's not too proud that he won't come back and admit he was wrong. Your partnership is strong enough for this, you just have to accept that right now, he needs to step outside and walk this alone. You owe him that much. Okay?"

She released his hand as quickly as she had snatched it. She stood, coffee cup balanced on empty plate. Casey smoothed her skirt and addressed him coolly, secretary to boss: "I'll contact you if Axford returns with more on the construction issue."

Britt drew back, unsure of when things had turned frosty or why. He reached out to her as she walked away, mouth forming her name in a plea.

She was just out of reach.

* * *

Kato parked across from the Golden Lotus Café. The Tsoy Yen Tong was down the street, and the historical Buddhist temple around the corner. The other shops, sounds and smells on this clear cool day were a slice of home.

The very thing he didn't want to think about at the moment.

His red track jacket rustled with hands shoved into the pockets, to jog quickly across the street through traffic for the Café. His entrance was equally quick and unobtrusive. Mary and Jimmy were working the lunch rush in predictable fashion while Uncle delivered on old home recipes that, despite himself, made his stomach wax nostalgia.

He ducked to a just-vacated back table to wait. He kept his head down, eyes searching expertly for those he didn't recognize. Jimmy was on approach, caught up in organizing his orders, then in speaking with the patron just adjacent to Kato. Jimmy pivoted his back to Kato for the quick word. Kato listened: the continuation of congratulations on his studies and pending nuptials.

He snagged Jimmy on his departure, blanching the man's face in sudden terror. "Wha-?!" His heart jumpstarted when he realized it was Kato.

"Oh! Kato. You frightened me."

Kato observed this reaction well— _He thinks they're watching him already._ "Sorry. Can you talk?" Eyebrows raised in quiet emphasis.

Jimmy swallowed, "For now. Not too long."

Kato steered him out the back door as they had gone the night before, quickly checking the alley for stragglers until he was satisfied they wouldn't be disturbed. Crowding in on Jimmy, closing the gap between them to secure the transaction, he pressed a slip of paper into Jimmy's palm. He clasped clammy hands in his as if to congratulate the man further.

"That is the number you are to call the Green Hornet at if you see any suspicious activity or people. Especially Cānglóng or Lao Yin. Memorize, burn it, then forget it after you've called. "

Jimmy eyed the slip of paper with wary relief. "I will."

"Mr. Reid is taking a huge risk in reaching out to the Green Hornet like this, especially when he's supposed to be helping apprehend him." Kato applied condescension just enough to be effective.

"You know there is nowhere else to turn. I can't go to the police: they'll just label it tong warfare again and turn the other cheek, like the last time. The Hornet was there for us when everyone else refused. He brought Duke Slate down and his partner destroyed Lo Sing: no one else. I realize the risk Mr. Reid—and you- are assuming and I am humbled." He clutched the slip tighter in his fist. "I will do whatever you say. Xièxiè, thank you."

Kato gave him a friendly light tap on the cheek , "Alright. I know. Bié kèqì-you're welcome."

Jimmy pulled on Kato's arm when the man turned to leave him, as another thought crossed his mind: "They will be careful, yes? You remembered to tell Mr. Reid to say so?"

Kato blew a breath of his nose, half-touched and half-annoyed; he had other plans to execute today. "I suppose as much as the Green Hornet was willing to listen to."

Jimmy swallowed, not reassured. Kato could see his friend was on his last nerves. That only served to increase Kato's own reservations. Jimmy did not do well under pressure; apt to leap off a second floor railing and knock himself out, rather than confront the issues at hand (never mind the issue was the Green Hornet, at that time…).

"And Shīfu Man?"

"I'm working on it. Speaking of which, I must go." Kato pointed to Jimmy's clenched fist. "Remember…."

"Yes—yes of course. I will keep in touch. Perhaps…this will all be over soon. Zàijiàn."

Jimmy disappeared with a fervent dash through the back door, probably scampering back to the kitchen for respite."

Kato frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets once more. "Just stay cool, Jimmy." He whispered to the closed door. "And let me do the rest."

Just past his parked car, Kato availed himself to the neighborhood phone booth. Time for part three of the plan, because part four would be the clincher and his least favorite—shades of true criminality made him squirm.

He dialed the number of the apartment. It rang without answer. He hung up and rang it again. Still no answer. Britt wasn't home yet. Still on schedule, still unbearable. He pressed the phone down into its cradle as he summoned the cold cheerless aura he would require for this and all else.

His commitment in not returning to the apartment until the job was done wasn't whole.

One more trip back…

…to steal the Black Beauty.

* * *

Britt rang the bell, stepping back in a hang-dog posture. Casey opened her door. "Mr. Reid, hello!"

Britt smiled, head still down. "Can I, um, come in?"

"Of course." She beckoned him in by sweeping the door open all the way. Casey's apartment was an extension of herself: warm, inviting, a little mischievous, but very comfortable. He took a deep breath, strains of perfume: lavender, chamomile…something spicier her couldn't place.

"Can I get you coffee?"

"Erm, sure. Thank you."

Casey took a backward glance as she went to her kitchen. Britt was uncharacteristically embarrassed, even…self-conscious.

"Did you get my message, then?" She called out to him.

"Yes, I did. I have the files. Mike can work fast when he wants to, can't he?"

"Given the right amount of pushing. He says he'll have more for you tomorrow."

Britt sat down on her couch, unbuttoning his suit coat. He rubbed his shoulder where the scar from being shot as the Green Hornet was a permanently etched reminder. It was more bothersome than usual.

"Where did you go this afternoon?" Casey brought a carafe of coffee to the table, complete with small cups. She caught the last rub of his bad shoulder. "Bothering you?"

Britt waved her concern off, "I took a drive to VanZandt Peake. Walked for a bit. Thought about your advice."

Casey sat next to him, tucking her legs beneath her. "VanZandt Peake…." She wondered aloud, trying to place the significance beyond familial ties. "You and Kato ran out there that first night, didn't you?"

Britt stared into the table, quietly reminiscing. A faint smirk, "Yeah we did. Surprised I even remember any of that night. Glad I do though…some things are just meant to stick with you."

"What did you decide up there?"

Britt brought himself out of his reverie and sighed, "…that you were right, in a way. It's not that I don't trust _him_ ; it's everyone else. There is little kindness in the world…when you find a friend you can call brother, you don't let that go easily. …I'll give him his space, however. I do owe him that much."

Britt took a sip of coffee, once again avoiding her gaze. "What?" she prodded.

"Er…did we have a disagreement today?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he gestured, "At the commissary…."

Casey inclined her chin, "Ohhhh. That."

"You didn't seem too thrilled with me."

Casey twisted her mouth in thoughtful reflection, "No. More like, I was perplexed at the thought you two could ever be at odds, or that Kato could ever act the way you say he was. I like constants in my life; safety of routine—you and Kato give me that—when you're not out as the Green Hornet, obviously. That's a different story…. But, so, to answer your question: No, no disagreement." She was playfully coy, "Your record remains clean with me, Mr. Reid."

"Ohperfect. So, you wouldn't mind going to dinner with me?" His megawatt smile bowled her over as usual. It dimmed measurably when he added, "I don't feel like going back to the apartment just yet…"

She plucked his empty cup out of his hand and sashayed to the kitchen. "Then you've come to the right place. I'll be a moment." She flashed her eyes at him with devastating under the eyelash flair, disappearing into her bedroom.

* * *

Kato leaned against the brick and stone façade of Pop Carroca's Lilly Moon hotel on the far end of Chinatown. He wiped his brow of sweat for a brief break before returning to his work in the establishment's back alley. Equipped with two dumpsters, which were turning out to be very difficult to move, it was the perfect cover for the Black Beauty. Kato checked the progress of the sun's downward dip into the horizon. Almost time to get her.

Putting his back into it, Kato finally managed to create an adequate screen that he could back the Beauty behind and easily—maybe with a scrape or two, maneuver out of.

He peeled off his gloves and shoved them into his jean's back pockets, nonchalantly walking out the front and in through the front. Pop Carroca was the lone Filipino in the neighborhood yet very graciously accepted. As such, he ran a semi-honest house, asking no question and expecting to be paid up front every time.

Kato paid for a corner room over the alley for the week. He knew there was a good chance it would be over before the week was out but he had to play it safe. He brought his bag up to his room for a quick inspection of the threadbare furnishings before leaving for the apartment. He nodded to Pop Carroca at the front desk, assuring him he'd be back soon. Pop waved him off, returning to his paper.

Kato's face melted from friendly to grim calculation. His gloves returned with a snap.


	6. Where the Devil Don't Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starred quotes are from Bruce Lee's "Striking Thoughts" and "Artist of Life" books, edited by the leading expert on Lee, John Little, from Bruce's own personal notes and thoughts. Draws from Bruce's "Tao of Jeet Kune Doo", as well. All highly recommended reading. Varied content alludes to "Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story" and "Enter the Dragon". Chapter title from singer/songwriter Elle King's riproaring "Where the Devil Don't Go". Listened to it constantly through the darker days of writing this chapter. I own nothing, especially those quotes: they're truly 100% Bruce. I'm just playing around.

* * *

_Sunday_

_May 5_ _th_ _, 1968_

_7:30am_

Britt rolled under his bedcovers, comfort eluding him. Rays of sun slipped through the blinds, slivers of such falling across his face. He growled into his pillow, which promptly ended up across the room. He finally sat up, scratching his scalp. Waking up still, he threw off his sheets and comforter for the cool comfort of his robe. His feet found slippers on his way to the window to wrench the blinds open in heavy handed exasperation.

The apartment was quiet—none of the usual background ambiance he'd come to overlook because they **_were_ ** expected.

Britt was alone.

He hung on his door frame, swinging slightly back and forth in solemn rumination. He cocked his head toward the kitchen, feeling the need to lose himself in some godawful grease bomb breakfast; something Kato would raise an eyebrow at. Along with a potful of acrid, stomach churning coffee.

On his desk awaiting his inspection was a folder yay-big on the construction problems, with more to be expected later today. He'd stuff himself silly then wallow in the afterglow to get through his morning and the drudgery of Mike's half-assed organizational skills.

Throwing nutritional convention to the wind and making up culinary knowhow on the fly, he produced oily satisfaction. The coffee bit into his stomach lining was equal redress. He brought his breakfast to his office and propped his feet up on his desk, picking at a slice of bacon as he flipped his morning project open. He paused to sip his coffee, enjoying the scalding heat that maintained itself all the down. His perchance for self-destructing behavior was certainly off and running this morning…

Half way through his loose flipping, he took a sip from his second cup…and CHOKED.

Spitting, sputtering, rocketing his chair back to get out of the way of the spattering, Britt regained his senses and shakily put down the cup to prevent any more spillage. He pushed his chair carefully to his desk, rustling coffee- stained papers. There, in Mike's rough scribbles under a grainy file shot of a tall, dark haired man disembarking from an AirAsia flight, sprawled the emboldened name **Lao Yin** with an arrow pointing up.

Lao Yin: owner of Mahjong Construction and the winner of exclusive building contracts across the city. The very same contracts that were now inexplicably stalled in failure.

… _somebody named Lao Yin seemed to be running some kind of..._ racket… _in my master's school…_

Ten minutes later, Britt was fully dressed and out the door.

* * *

_Around the Same Time..._

_Lilly Moon Hotel_

_Chinatown_

Kato's night hours were spent in mediation and heavy self-reflection. At dawn, he took a quick shower, picking and choosing his battles with finicky water pipes. He felt remiss on not packing an extra change of clothes. He would buy extras if he needed to. Afterwards, he ordered a small traditional breakfast from the Xi Chi restaurant, a block over from the Golden Lotus. With no intention of seeing Jimmy again until at least his wedding that coming Friday, that meant none of the Golden Lotus fare he heartily craved.

The food arrived piping hot. Kato took the bagged oyster pail boxes to his window and ate slowly, enjoyably in the sun.

And to make sure She was safe.

The dumpster screen was keeping Her well; he could just see the Beauty's sparkling black roof from his perch. His chopsticks slowed their dipping and tucking as he recalled the pride and excitement the building of the Black Beauty had given them. It was dirty, intricate, time consuming work months and years in the making. The day her supercharger purred underhand as if it was alive, gifting this coursing life to the entirety of the car...

She was as exquisitely dangerous today as she was then. The Black Beauty was incomparable—a true one of a kind. He was tainting Her in a way Her veritable purpose never could.

 _Sorry, baby_.

He left quietly, finding Pop Carroca still entrenched in his comfy chair reading the Morning Edition of Daily Sentinel. Kato averted his eyes, sticking with the friendly nod. He took in the uptick of warmth for today, unzipped his jacket to walk uptown.

Kato blended well with the light Sunday traffic, employing his remarkable skill at becoming one with any backdrop. He would scout out the surrounding areas of Chinatown's main thoroughfare, making the Golden Lotus Café his centering beacon. Not that he expected his quarry to be out in the open for the taking, nor would he attempt to take them even if they were.

In keeping with the confidence Jimmy had unknowingly bestowed on him, he would not ask of the community if they had seen anything. Undue alarm would spread, because most here understood the dâ zhàngs' evils. That would alert the persons involved that their little venture may well be at its end. He would conduct it as any other Green Hornet investigation: neatly on the sly. Besides that…it was quite likely no one had seen anything: the old dâ zhàngs' of Hong Kong had gone on for decades without address.

What he had to do was get his thumb on the pulse of Chinatown and see if it jumped erratically where it shouldn't. That led him first to the Tsoy Yen Tong headquarters, the singular meeting place for the men of Chinatown. He himself was a well-respected pillar of the Chinese community and welcomed by the tong that could have been his to run, had he acquiesced to Jimmy's offer. As such, his presence with accepted in an upswell of good mornings and vigorous hand pumping. The usual crowd was in attendance as he picked his way through.

"Kato, you stand with Jimmy this Friday, no?" Ya Ming, one of the many shopowners, asked as Kato passed.

"Of course."

"Maybe you are next!"

The other men laughed in agreement, clapping him on the back. Kato bowed his head, hiding his smile. "No, I don't think so."

"We'll find you a nice girl! May Ling, Lee Ling's daughter! She's pretty! Make a fine wife!"

Kato tried to extract himself, "Yes, very pretty. She will make someone very lucky to have her. Excuse me…"

Their neighborly duty of reminding Kato of his single status now over, the men returned to their morning routines. More tea was poured and another round of egg rolls passed. Kato grabbed one along with a cup of tea. Someone had left a chess set in the corner window seat of the tong. He busied himself with that. Or at least pretended to. His ears were attuned to the chatter, his attention seemingly unwavering on the board when, in reality, it was flying over every snippet of conversation, dissecting meaning for hidden clues. Half an hour of this led him to believe that if the fights were indeed occurring, none of the citizenry except Jimmy and he knew about them.

He wondered then how deeply entrenched this charade was inside the government. Jimmy had mentioned high-ranking Hong Kong officials were wantonly involved in the home-grown fights, as they had been during Kato's time. Corruption was another cross-cultural transmission: it was an easy stretch of the imagination that Lao Yin and Cānglóng had clout somewhere high in Century City: the mayor's office? Perhaps the district attorney's office? He briefly flashed to DA Frank Scanlon's face, couched behind professor's glasses and a rumpled demeanor. The same man who willingly carried Britt's secret for the benefit of the city; if it was engrained within his office, Scanlon wouldn't know. Kato knew that much. So the police probably, making Jimmy's obstinacy in telling the authorities seem all the more reasonable.

At the state level, even, within the governor's office itself. There's a thought. Kato pushed the board away from him with a futile sigh. His mind categorically shunned the chattering background noise to contemplate the situation up until now. Conclusion: a one man army against a world unto itself.

"…Kato? Kato."

He jerked, blinking into the bemused face of Keye Chang. Kato stood reflexively, rapidly checking himself to put on a reassured smile. "Hello, Uncle. …I'm sorry, didn't see you come in."

Chang observed the barely played chess set and the half eaten egg roll. He had the younger man pegged, cool rebuttal or not. "You are too young, Kato, to have that faraway gaze I saw just now. They belong on old men…dreaming of their youth." Chang chuckled to himself. "Like myself. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be making those memories now!"

Kato wasn't sure how to respond beyond kindly tolerant semi-agreement as Chang could be going in any direction with that aphorism. Chang paused to let that sink in before jovially taking Kato with an arm around the shoulder. "I hear from Mary you will be standing with Jimmy on Friday. My happiness is complete! I am glad…you and Jimmy are together again. Perhaps you will even reconsider the tong offer, eh?" He added with an indulgent smile. Kato needn't have replied, even if he had one to offer, as Chang switched back to the former topic, "Jimmy needs more friends like you, _true friends_. They are like an oasis to a thirsty man."

Chang's final thought struck deep within him, shimmying around his chest and hitting his heart like a hammer blow. He hid the physical grimace under the façade of reassured polish. "You're ever the philosopher, Uncle. Excuse me, I just remembered I must call Mr. Reid's office." The blurted excuse of calling the Sentinel was unexpected. Certainly, it must be the lies catching up with him. The least he could do was tell Britt he was okay; that it would be okay—exactly what he wanted to say as he walked out the door but couldn't. It wasn't part of the plan but flexibility was a second nature to him.

At the phone, well aware Chang was still watching from across the room, Kato affected his usual disarming air as he was connected to the Daily Sentinel. "Hello. Mr. Britt Reid's office, please?" He was connected to the secretary's phone, as per usual, bracing for the next voice.

"Mr. Reid's office, this is his Secretary speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hello, Ms. Case."

A hard pause ensued on the other end, then a breathy, "Kato?! Kato, thank God. Where are you?"

Kato smiled broadly as if she had said something funny and glanced around, still for the sake of anyone watching. "No need to worry. I am fine."

"Well, excuse me if I don't believe you! You have him worried sick—that goes double for me. **_Where are you_** _?"_

The smile faltered, "I am sorry. And touched. I didn't know you cared." He added, teasing her.

Casey's sigh was agitated. "Of course I care! I don't **_understand_** half the time, but I care."

"I'm fine, Ms. Case. You can let Mr. Reid know that. I will return soon."

"Wait, don't hang up! Tell me where you are at least. If you don't want Britt to know, I won't tell him. But while you're at it, you can tell me **_what's going on_**."

He shook his head, "I am afraid I can't do that. It's better this way. Let him know, won't you? That everything is going to be okay. I promise. Goodbye, Casey."

He hung up on her pleas and waved to Uncle Chang. "Til Friday, Uncle!" He and the other men gave their farewells in kind. Kato strolled down the block, stopping in on shops here and there, thumb still checking the pulse of Chinatown. He finally encountered a few of the teenaged boys, potential fighter material, as he turned the corner for the Buddhist temple. They raised their hands in greeting, running for him. They were upbeat, happy to see him and, more importantly, unscathed. The younger boys, ranging from six years to ten years, bolted from their hiding spots in the surrounding alleyways to make Kato their jungle gym. Their laughter and singsong calls of his name in Chinese yo-yoed his spirits back up.

"Kato, when you opening a school?"

Tommy Lin, aged 16 and a burgeoning gung fu man, faked a jab at Kato. Kato nonchalantly took him by the wrist and twisted, putting Lin to the ground. It was a funny joke that elicited cat calls and mocking laughter.

"I'm not, Tommy. You know that."

"You should, man. You're the best there is here." Tommy rubbed his Indian-brushburned arm.

"You seem to be doing all right."

"Yeah, cuz I'm hitching a ride to Gotham every weekend to learn from some guys there. It's a hassle."

"It shouldn't be—learning is learning, no matter where you have to go to find it."

Tommy waved him off. The other boys joined him on the ground or leaned against buildings, huddling around Kato. When he saw he had their attentions he grabbed two of the younger boys to ruffle their hair.

"So there's no gung fu action here? You have to go to Gotham?"

"Well, yeah. Obviously. They only other teacher we had was Lo Sing and," Tommy made a face and shrugged, " _Fēng_ …totally crazy. We had to stop going to him."

Kato nodded slowly, "I see…so, what's Gotham's action like? Who is your Shīfu?"

"Marginal, at best. The other guys have no imagination—like fighting brick walls. I'm studying with Shīfu Xi Xi. He thinks you're too progressive and I shouldn't talk to you." Kato was acquainted with men like that, and laughed out loud. "I bet! You listen to him, though. Good teacher for you right now."

"I wish there was something here. At least think about opening a school? You're seriously the best."

Kato helped him to his feet, motioning for the boys to gather around, "…I have some things going on in my life right now that mean I would not be able to focus on you and teaching. Should these be resolved," he paused… "Maybe I will consider it. For now, if you have teachers outside the city, listen to them. Obey your parents. And remember why you're learning gung fu; that it does not have a place on the streets, like Lo Sing believed it did. Can you do that for me?"

The boys agreed as one. He high fived and fist bumped Tommy and his older pals while the younger ones hung on to him for high fives and hair ruffles. When the last had departed with whooping hollers, Kato resumed his walk to the temple. He paused on the front steps, caught up in the memories this palace of worship held and, at the same time, harkened back to.

It was the site of his defeat of Lo Sing, which led to the subsequent downfall of Duke Slate. He reminisced of the days spent in study with Yip Man behind the walls of his temple. It was nothing so ornate or golden on the inside, yet its simplicity held an elegance of its own. Ordered yet free, a perfect place for meditation and growth.

Kato pressed his palm into the doors' cool surface, as if it had a pulse of its own to feel. He pushed his way in when he noticed they were unlocked. Strange that a Chinatown heritage site would be left so open, yet perhaps the Tong men believed that the honor this temple embodied would be enough to keep vandals and unwanted guests at bay.

How noble.

He suddenly felt like he was intruding, but not for that reason. Incense wafted around him like invisible tendrils. It wasn't freshly burned, neither was it exceptionally old. Recently, perhaps in the last twelve hours? He took a testing sniff as he walked to the middle of the foyer to consider the sanctified surroundings with a new eye for intrusion. The dust, which should have been heavy in the air from inactivity, had settled as though it had been moved through, and dispersed. The musky old scent of the carpet runners across the tile was gone, replaced by the incense and…fresh air. The walls were bare, but at the top of the grand staircase spread out before him, a flag-sized outline blemish on the wall bespoke of something hung there, then removed. He hadn't recalled anything hanging there previously, but his last visit _had_ been two years ago. And yet…the very vibrations of the temple were wrong; off balance, making him uncomfortably chilled even as he stood in a pool of sunlight.

"Something wicked this way come." Kato quoted slowly under his breath. Someone was coming and going from this temple was startling frequency and longevity. They were careful in cleaning up after themselves yet the more subtle signs remained.

Cānglóng must have a nasty sense of place and humor. Kato firmly decided he would watch this landmark very closely tonight. He also wondered how this man knew of the significance of this place. Or had he just guessed? Kato retreated, reeling from the fact he had found the singular place where a peaceful thrum of pulse should have been and wasn't. Instead, he'd found the erratic center of the dragon's eye.

* * *

_8:00am_

_Daily Sentinel_

Britt power walked for his office, briskly greeting the skeleton Sunday crew as he did so. Casey rose from her office chair to greet him. She was as curious as the others were about his sudden, uncharacteristically hurried arrival, especially on a Sunday morning. He put her hand up to silence any forthcoming questions and pointed to his office. She followed, o-mouthed with several.

A gesture towards his door preceded any willingness to answer so she obliged in closing it. He swooped in behind his desk."Has Mike been in?"

"Briefly. Just to let me know where he was going. I reminded him it's a half day for me, so—." She made a face when she realized he was deliberately holding back on giving a reason for his harried appearance. "Now you're just avoiding the issue. You look horrible, and you never come in on Sundays, especially not this early. Did Kato contact you too?"

"No, no…although I think we were a little hasty yesterday. I found-." He cut himself off. "Wait, you said 'contact you too'. Did he call?"

Casey shifted her stance, toying with the pencil she still had in hand by rolling it between her fingers. 'Yes, he did." She admitted, "Just a little while ago."

"Where is he?" The question held a certain amount of urgency she didn't like. Casey rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly conscious of the fact this situation may be a lot worse than either of them figured on. "He didn't say— wouldn't, actually. And I couldn't tell. I'm sorry. There were voices in the background, male I think. Besides that…" she shrugged. "Britt, honestly, what's going on?"

He sat heavily in his chair, staring into space, "I'm not sure. I do know this is more serious and complex than…I thought it was." He refocused on her, "Kato mentioned a name: Lao Yin, as the potential leader of the gang harassing his old teacher."

"I remember you mentioning that."

"He said he thought Lao Yin was masterminding some sort of racket and his master's school was their base of operations. Or at least that's the wording he used. Maybe he was just trying to soften the story for me, I…" He shook his head at himself, rushing through to his next thought, "Anyway, I found out that this situation is connected to the construction issues throughout the city."

Casey moved to sit in the office guest chair, "Really?"

"Yes," he smiled, but it held no warmth, "It was just supposed to be a little expose, not anymore: _Lao Yin_ owns the construction company that holds the stalled contracts; it's called Mahjong Construction. I want to know to know everything there is to know on him, his dealings in Hong Kong, and his company: _pronto_. Get on the phone with the Far East office and have them fax over what they have. Find Mike too, and get him on it on this end. Don't tell him it involves Kato, just…tell him it's urgent, and that I want his notes and findings for today on my desk by five."

"Right, of course." She nodded, jumping to. "What do you think happened back in Hong Kong with Kato's old teacher…if this Lao Yin and his company are dirty?"

"Well, running an international racket is pretty easy which you've established your footholds. An international construction firm can do that quite nicely for you. Perhaps he…tried to buy out the master's school and he refused. I don't know." He gave Casey a sheepish grin, "Your advice was pretty good as usual, Casey, but…looks like I have to get involved anyway."

She shrugged good-naturedly. Her eyes were crinkled with apprehension, "I'll go try to track down Mike. Should I, uhm, look for Kato too?"

Britt ruffled his hair, feeling indecisive, "No. No, not yet. I need to look over Mike's information first."

"Right." She agreed, getting up to leave. A sudden recall of message halted her midstep. She pivoted to look back on Britt who in turn noticed her staring like she'd seen a ghost cross her path. "Casey, you okay?" She blinked, his voice calling her back from where ever her mind had just wandered to, "You know, it's odd…Kato told me to tell you that everything was going to be okay. Those were his exact words…but it was the _way_ he said it… And then," She swallowed, "And then he called me 'Casey'. He hasn't done that in years."

* * *

_6:30pm_

_Penthouse District_

_Reid Residence_

Britt unlocked the apartment door, immediately tensing in anticipation of hearing Kato moving about inside. He released any such hope the instant the darkened space opened to him. He stepped aside to let Casey in ahead. She looked about with sad disappointment.

"You too?" He asked wistfully, sensing as such.

"I…wanted him to be here. It would mean half of the problem would be solved."

He set about getting the apartment in order, turning on lights and opening windows: the stench of heavy morning sustenance still permeated due to his rapid departure. "What _is_ that smell?" Casey wrinkled her nose on the way to the study. Britt grinned as he drew abreast of her to open the patio blinds and doors to the twilight air, "Bacon. Lots of bacon."

"Hrmph. You're almost predictable, you know that?"

"Oh," he chuckled, "Only almost."

She set her large purse and Britt's briefcase in his command chair, withdrawing the hefty contents in piles to cover the entire desktop. He returned with a large carafe of coffee and two cups. His suit coat and tie were off with white shirt sleeves rolled up over his muscular forearms.

"I'm sorry about this…definitely not a half day for you…"

She tsked, "Don't even go there, Britt. This goes beyond just work."

He raised an eyebrow, "Game for a potential allnighter?"

She pursed her lips, almost laughing, "You don't give a girl much of chance to say no, do you?"

Britt winked, "I do, they might run off on me."

She handed him her cup as a curt response, "Pour, Mr. Reid."

* * *

_7:00pm_

_Lilly Moon Hotel_

_Nightfall_

Nimble fingers flew up the center column of jacket buttons. When satisfied with the fasteners' snugness, these quick hands made two fastidious pulls on the bottom hem. A shining black mask slid over equally brilliant black eyes, sitting firmly in place behind the ears as it had countless times before; one solid press into either side of the skull for good measure. On the head, a black chauffeur's cap for further concealment, smartly designed for practicality and style. To top off the outfit, a pair a black leather gloves, flexed and fitted as if it were a second skin.

The fire escape provided the perfect leaping point down to the Black Beauty, with a quick hopping stop off on a dumpster lid. Kato slid into the driver's side, settling in as any other ride in Beauty would have begun, except the sound of Britt's voice commanding him to roll out was a mere echoing phantom of his imagination. Nevertheless, he shot a quick look to the back seat. The next step was getting the Beauty out of this spot; he hadn't made it easy but risking the Beauty's existence on a simple roll-out was idiotic. Was he not the best wheel man, as Britt liked to brag in private?

With a small pat on to the steering column in fond reassurance, Kato engaged the engine to run silent. A soft rumbling purr met his demand for turnover. He pulled the wheel as far as it would go, shifting her into reverse. As previously calculated, it required a fair amount of pedal and wheel work to get her out, with just a single scrap that wouldn't leave a mark on the armored skin.

Kato flexed his hands on the wheel as he pulled onto the streets of Chinatown, the first patrol of its kind in two years. He intended to find a nice alleyway in the center of the haven to wait for the call that may or may not come tonight. If it didn't, he would still make a point of seeing the Buddhist temple in its nightly glory, and whether or not it shared that glory with someone it shouldn't be…

With the Black Beauty engaged in silent running, she became all but invisible. He skirted the lit areas to maintain that illusion, finding a place in the alley down and across the street from the Golden Lotus. The polarized headlights remained off while the green polarized screen across the driver's side of the windshield provided Kato with perfect night vision. He too was a ghost inside his intangible vehicle.

In here, the outside became an alien realm. In the Black Beauty, behind his mask, time was nonexistent. Any game those awaiting him out there wished to play, would find he him a patiently competitive man.

* * *

_8:00pm_

_Penthouse District_

_Reid Residence_

Casey worked her neck side to side, fending off a blossoming headache. She leaned back into the plushy cushion of the couch and sighed deeply. In her lap, a series of black and white photographs with their corresponding notes. Britt was so totally absorbed in his pile that he hadn't noticed her self-imposed break.

"Did you see this?" he asked absently. Of course she hadn't but such an inconsequential rebuttal would only elicit an eye roll, and being coy and obtuse was not in her frame of mood at the moment.

"See what?" She asked instead. He made wide hand gestures at the particular file, "Lao Yin has been photographed with every ruling member of the Party over the course of the last couple years. Initially he and his company came out of nowhere. He made impressive unheard of bids in Shanghai, Hong Kong…all the major cities **_and_** they were accepted without any competing bids. He was then spotted with several of the more powerful Tong leaders, but the nature of his business with them is murky at best, according to the Far East Office. They keep mentioning this… dâ zhàng, but there's no translation listed, which is odd. It's underlined like five times where ever it pops up but it's prefixed with 'rumored', or 'alleged' or... 'historical'. That's the categorization I don't get: historical. Meaning…it's happened before, or it's on going…? Whatever it is, it seems that Lao Yin is in the middle of it, allegedly."

She laughed softly at the irony, "Your own favorite word, working against you." He made a sour face, "I have to figure out it means." He tipped his chin at her lapful, "What about you?" Casey shuffled through the photographs. "These were from three months ago, when Mike must have had a sudden and very short-lived change of heart and decided to get back on the story." She moved to his desk to show him.

The first depicted Lao Yin exiting his long black limo at the Mayor's mansion for an official function, looking dapper, if a bit too serious, in his tailored tux. "How did Mike get this shot?"

She shrugged, "I assume by his usual brash tactics: he crashed the party."

The next photograph was one of him shaking hands with the Building and Parks Commissioner on the steps of City Hall after landing another contract, even though his others were already stuttering. The next: with the police commissioner, looking incredibly friendly, coming out of the City Club for lunch. The next…

"He was in Chinatown?" Britt sat forward in his seat to grab at the photo. "At the Buddhist Temple?"

"Yes, paying his respects."

"Then where are the Representatives from the Tong? All I see here are…the old white guys, to put it bluntly."

Casey ogled him side-long, "To put it bluntly." she repeated dryly. "I don't know…Mike marked that as well and wondered if they had even been invited or knew of this. They had to have, right?"

"Not necessarily. The next ones?"

"All of him at his work sites, some are from far away, some are closer up. It's a wonder he didn't catch on to Mike!"

"He can be wily when it's called for."

Britt picked through the site photos, mentally cataloging the locations: the gaming district in the Southend (at the race track), the docks (building new warehouses) and the business district (putting up several new high-rises).

"Complete monopoly. No competition, now he's milking it for all its worth with the tax breaks and the stipends he receives from the on-going permits. And," Britt excitedly moved back through the others, "He makes friends with every important official in the city as he goes." His hand rested on a missed photo, which he withdrew it with a sharp intake of breath, "And the state." He held it up for her to see the Governor's distinguished statesman's smile as he happily shook the newcomer's hand at the Governor's mansion.

"Oh dear."

"His pattern was the same in Hong Kong, culminating in his first visit to the States." Britt detailed, tapping his finger tip on the photos in thought. "He makes important friends…which allow him to take up these impossible projects. They begin strong, stall for long periods of time, then abruptly start up and finish in record time. He's just…taking all he can get while he can get it. When the corrupt money flow stops…he moves on. Rather brilliant, actually."

"So," Casey followed through on this, "Do you think Lao Yin tried to pull this on Kato's Master: tried to buy him out like you said, he said no and…?" Her voice trailed off on the grim prospect of refusal.

Britt chewed on his bottom lip, "I dunno. Nothing about that anywhere in here. He does surround himself with an interesting lot of characters, savory and not so savory, so…I suppose anything is possible. The People's Republic of China is more of good old boys club than the US government is in some cases…I'm amazed the Far East Office had this much."

"But where does Kato come in to this? Do you think he knows more than he let on?"

"Oh definitely, but whether it was this situation he was let on to, I don't know that either. What I do know now is that this is huge—it goes right to the Governor! We could turn this state on its head for years to come with this!"

She saw the gleam in his eye, accentuating the bright blues and greens whirling in them. It was one she'd seen on his father many times in her short employment as his secretary. "You looked like your father just then." She commented lightly.

His smile was the tight, not quite reaching the eyes variety. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Look, do you want to take a break? I do."

"Yes," she craned her neck to work out the kinks, "I think I would."

* * *

_9:00pm_

_Chinatown_

_The Buddhist Temple_

A foreign plated sedan pulled around the corner just shy of the Temple, depositing two figures to make a brisk exit towards the back entrance. The engine idled in wait.

Lao Yin bowed to the Black Dragon as he bid his farewells. "It is a sincere pleasure and honor to have you in play at last, Cānglóng. It has begun…I can hardly believe it myself."

The withering eye of the dragon drew a calculating bead on the reverence displayed by his young apprentice. "I can only do what you allow me to do, Lao Yin. Believe me, that is not a comforting thought. Century City is already grumbling because of your lagging. I thought you would have you taken care of such before. You haven't. Now a reporter for the Daily Sentinel is sneaking about—did you not see him following us today? I did."

Lao Yin blinked, "I…thought you were pleased with today's exercises, Shīfu."

"Pleased that we have them…but displeased at your handling. This is not Hong Kong. This is America."

"Exactly, Shīfu. The Americans hold their freedoms of democracy and free trade at a premium. I assure you, those grumblings can't hurt us. Do you wish this reporter handled?" The Black Dragon turned from him, hand reaching out to touch the stone of the temple wall, "No." He said, caressing it, "Leave him. On the assurance we will have our operations underground ahead of schedule."

"Ahead…?"

"Yes. Now rather than later, Lao Yin. I want this City, but I want it on my terms. You heard me last night: walk with me in this, but only behind me."

Lao Yin swallowed, renewing his bow, "Of course, my shīfu. I will jumpstart the projects immediately. Shall I have them begin underground here tomorrow?"

"Yes. Shore it up."

Lao Yin acquiesced, bowing on his backward retreat. His master disappeared into the temple without another word or look back. Lao Yin returned to his vehicle and was gone from Chinatown moments later.

Down the street, in the Golden Lotus Café, shaking fingers dialed a certain number.

* * *

_9:15pm_

_The Black Beauty…_

"Hello."

"Green Hornet?"

"His partner. Speak. You called us. We don't usually take requests." Kato moved his tongue around his mouth after biting out those words, unused to disguising his voice **_and_** maintaining the tough guy touch at the same time.

"Lao Yin just dropped the Black Dragon off at the temple."

"Are you sure, your vantage point is poor."

"I know his car. I know him. There was another with him: it has to be Cānglóng. "

"They are in the Temple."

"Yes…or, at least… Cānglóng is."

Kato twisted his mouth to the side, feeling the flush of pre-battle adrenaline. "Very well. You were told to forget this number after you called it. Do it. And don't come to us again."

"I'm sorry…you are our la-."

Kato hung up on him. He pressed the phone into its cradle with a crushing grip. Poor Jimmy. He climbed into the driver's seat from the back and started the engine, purring in its run-silent state, just begging him to unleash the horses.

"Not today, girl." He whispered, shifting into drive. Her chrome nose grill eased out of the darkness. He flooded the street around him with green incandescence, signaling the Green Hornet was on the prowl.

He boldly parked the Black Beauty in front of the Temple, sealing the car against intrusion as he vaulted from her cabin. He hauled the doors opened, presenting himself fully to the candlelit interior. Candles... backlighting a menacing banner sporting a swirling angry black dragon: solid undisputable sign of occupation. The shadows bounced and danced with disconcerting rhythm. Kato felt his body transform under the conditions: he tucked his chin to his collarbone, shrinking his body, tucking in all the hard angles to minimize target space. Outwardly, it would appear as if a human sized black cat was lurking where he wasn't wanted. He transverse the length of the temple's great hall foyer, déjà vu of the same path from his last battle with Lo Sing hitting him hard. The vibrations of the temple were still humming with negativity. But where was the Dragon?

His foot touched the first step to the grand staircase, his eyes tracking to where Jimmy had jumped from the second floor balcony. They were pulled back to top front and center by a graveling welcome that was anything but: " _Nín shì chū._ You're early."

Kato drew back his shoulders, glaring up at his adversary. He took in the tattoo, the bare chest under sweeping black trench coat, the dangerous physique.

" _Wǒ bù zhīdào wǒ yùqí—_ I didn't realize I was expected."

Cānglóng threw back his head in booming laugh, the flames of the candles behind him sweeping across the Dragon's eye, "Expected? Yes: but not yet. You've ruin a very delicate plan of mine."

Kato was unapologetically smug. " _Liánghǎo—_ Good."

The Black Dragon curled his lips back in a sneering snarl. He paced the top of the stairs, hungrily engulfing Kato in his blackeyed snare. He in turn remained calm and at ease. The thrum of energy throughout the temple pulled taunt. In his mind, before the first strike between either of them, he heard his Master's old cautioning adage, " _Hayashi, relax and calm your mind. Forget about yourself and follow the opponent's movement. Let your mind do what it must with no deliberate interference! Detachment: it is art you must learn_ …"*

The Black Dragon leaped. Kato realized the myth of wings Jimmy had mentioned wasn't far off: the man's coat billowed out around him as if they were his wings, lengthening his leapfroging frame into a black oblivion. Spreading himself out for impact to loom large in Kato's field of vision, Kato refused to give ground. He was crushed into the ground. He rolled with the momentum, throwing Cānglóng over him. The oof! it elicited was satisfying but only for the amount a time it took the Black Dragon to end his tumble and disengage from his coat to stand and fight.

* * *

_9:30pm_

_Penthouse District_

_Reid Residence_

Britt sipped his coffee, nodding. He held the phone receiver away from his ear as Mike Axford's blustery voice chattered excitedly, "You should see them, Britt! The most beeee-uu-tiful shots I've ever taken. I wish they'd been developed sooner. Mix-up in the paper's darkroom. Straightened out now. I'll have 'em on your desk for tomorrow."

"Casey wants me to let you know she's very impressed with your not getting caught in your snooping. She thinks you're improving, Mike." Britt joked.

"Oh she does, does she?!"

Britt chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of Casey moving about in the kitchen.

"…Although, today…I'm not so sure I didn't…"

Britt frowned, returning his attention to the conversation, "What do you mean?"

Mike hissed a sigh, static filling his end. He could picture the older man scratching behind his ear thoughtfully, "Well, ye see…this Lao Yin fella wasn't alone today. Usually I can keep my distance well enough and he don't know the difference. But today…he had this other guy with him. Chinese too. I tried all my usual gags, but I'm pretty sure he spotted me once or twice."

Britt rubbed his palm on his pant leg, grimacing, "Fantastic…Well, maybe it's about time Lao Yin knows we're not as clueless and naïve as Hong Kong…"

"I'm sorry, Britt. It's not like I did it on purpose. This **_is_** my second chance, after all."

Britt was rueful, "Second? More like your hundredth chance…"

The old Irishman bristled, "Well, if you're just going to get nasty about it…!"

"Just kidding. Anything else?"

"Er," Another pause to probably scratch at the thinning hair, "Yeah…this other Chinese fella. I'll admit, he spooked me pretty good. The one time we locked eyes…he's got this crazy, and I mean absolutely crazy, black dragon tattoo that covers his entire scalp and curls down around his one eye. It's like the dragon itself is lookin' atcha, dead shark eyes and all." Britt wouldn't be surprised if the old man was even crossing himself at this point, the way he made this mysterious newcomer sound.

Britt twisted his mouth, "Hmm. This new home grown player sounds interesting. Alright, Mike. I'll give them a look over tomorrow."

"Right. Night!" Axford hung up sharply enough that Britt was glad he'd learn to never listen directly into the phone when talking with the man. He hung up too, remaining in his office chair tapping his cup thoughtfully in a steady rhythm.

Casey reappeared with more coffee. "How's Mike?"

"Apparently there were more photographs from today that didn't get developed with the others. He'll have them for me tomorrow. There's also a new player in town with Lao Yin." He met her gaze, an eyebrow arched, "Bald Chinese with an "absolutely crazy" dragon tattoo across his head and face, as Mike puts it. No ID yet but…there's always tomorrow."

"Do you want to call it night?"

His phone rang again, cutting off his answer. "Hmph, probably Mike again. He always remembers something important _after_ the fact…" Britt rolled his eyes and picked up once more, "Yeah, Mike: what did you forget?"

Instead, silence met his question. Britt turned into the void of response, "Hello?"

"M-mister Reid? Mister Britt Reid?" A cautious, lightly accented voice questioned softly.

"Speaking."

Relief flooded from the other end, "Mr. Reid. This is Jimmy Kee. From the Golden Lotus?"

Britt leaned back, "Jimmy! Hey, I've been meaning to call you. Congratulations again, by the way."

"Yes...uhm, thank you. I know you have been." Jimmy swallowed audibly. Britt ticked his head to the side, "Really? Everything alright, Jimmy?"

"Everything is fine now. I called to personally thank you. The risk you are taking for us is immense and yet you do not shy away. You are a true friend. I also called to tell you that our **_mutual_** friend is taking care of Lao Yin and Cānglóng as we speak. The Dragon has no place in the city of Hornet and he will know that. Thank you, deeply. You have saved Chinatown and the city once again."

Britt gripped the receiver, white knuckled, heartbeat rising in his ears to drown out all else. His face must have given away his stomach-sinking bewilderment because Casey was giving him a concerned _What is it?_ expression.

He forced himself to answer without so much as even a wobble in his voice, "Right…Jimmy, uh. I'll…talk to you later."

"There's no need, Mister Reid. You have done enough. Good night."

Jimmy hung up, leaving Britt frozen in place, eyeing the receiver at arm's length with building fury. An old yet sickeningly familiar click in the back of his mind flipflopped his gut, flushing him full of dread. He launched himself from the chair, the phone hanging off the hook, at the bookshelf keys of the fireplace lift.

"Britt, what is it!" She called after him.

On the lift's lurching stop at its final destination, he jogged off through the lower lair of his apartment to the garage. There he swiftly moved along with the motions required to call forth the Black Beauty. His white convertible was clamped and slowly flipped to reveal…

…Kato's little two door.

Britt leaned against the corkboard, feeling alternately ill and betrayed. "Oh my God."

At the sound of the tone, Casey brought the lift back for Britt to disembark. She found him stepping off in a messy disarray of trying to dress in the Green Hornet outfit on the run.

"What is it?" She demanded, ogling his hurry.

"He took the Black Beauty. Damnit, he took the Beauty!" Britt fumed.

"… Kato?!"

Britt mashed his green mask over his eyes, pulling and primping at the coat and scarf. "Casey, I need you to drive me to the Buddhist temple in Chinatown." He handed her one of Kato's spare black masks. "You can wear this." She took the mask. "He's in trouble, isn't he?"

"There's no time! C'mon!"

* * *

_10:00-10:30pm_

_Chinatown_

_Buddhist Temple_

_Hayashi, you must learn to wait on the calm strength of patience—the main thing is not to expend one's powers prematurely…in an attempt to obtain by force…something for which the time is not yet ripe…_ _*_

 _…_ _Defeat is a state of mind! You are never truly defeated until defeat has been accepted as a reality!_ _*_

The opening attack was a lull into a false belief this was going to be honorable and clean gung fu match. The Black Dragon bobbed and weaved in his Southern Dragon form, blowing in and blowing out of his reach at will. Southern Dragons used their form to kill or maim, destroying an opponent's defense and ability to defend by rendering joints from their limbs. Kato could fight that. Kato tried…to fight that. Wing Chun was pure in its devices and his wholesale confidence in himself and his art form had propelled him to take this fight on his wings of righteousness.

But like the wily, conniving Dragon of lore, Cānglóng was equally devious.

Kato collapsed against a support pole of the temple's grand hall, heaving himself into the shadows for cover. The candles, one by one, had blown out by the gusts of fury the two men threw at it each other, with everything their mind and body had to muster. For the first time in a decade, he was losing. Horribly. His usual rhythm and inner harmony was twisted into a heavy weight around his ankles, instead of the cloud of air he normally floated on.

Why? He wiped his nose bleed off on his sleeve. Because he'd seen a ghost. This particular ghost was really a demon. Somewhere along the life's journey of this mysterious Cānglóng, he'd learned the truth of the dâ zhàng, of the why's and how's another young man caught up in the deadliest of them all had survived.

He'd learned that form was deadly. The ancient art forms of gung fu were not created equally: each one believed they held the answer, while none really did. In the streets of life and death, they were a ball and chain. One simply needed to **_move_** as the ebb and flow of combat moved: without thought.

 _Wu-wei: no action that isn't truly that, bust such that it is action that does not beget opposition…it is spontaneous action, without prearrangement …_ _*_

The basic tenant of Tao, injected with evil intent. Cānglóng had this skill, as Kato had had many years earlier. It was such that once it became unnecessary to survive by it, Kato rejected it. He left it behind in streaks of blood across crystal surfaces…

Kato seethed, imbalance and enraged. Where did Cānglóng learn this? How much did he know? **_How did he know?_**

Cānglóng understood on the same deep level of baseness as Kato did that no limits were your limitations, and no way was the way. Thus he fought as a man possessed, crashing through every other martial art and combat sport as the need arose, to beat Kato into submission. Wing chun was useless against this, and giving in to the temptation, which appeared to be Cānglóng's ulterior goal, would mean surrender. He would not give the animal the pleasure.

"I will have to kill you. To prove I am the best now, you must die. The only question is: should I do it now or later?" The Black Dragon's hissing whisper bounced off the walls of the darkened temple. Kato searched earnestly for him from his pole position.

"Fight me, little bee, so that I may break you."

Wiped the sweat dripping down behind his now-cracked mask. _Close…he's close…_

A rush of air swept around the pole and a hand grabbed him by the throat from the side. Kato yelled past the crush of his windpipe, breaking the hold along with several fingers. He launched a rapid fire succession of blows to the body and face.

They fell together to the carpet, gouging eyes and pounding blows into already bruised torsos. Cānglóng absorbed his with manic-eyed resilience, thrusting an open palmed strike to the center of Kato's chest to drive him off. The mask crumbled further on his jarring landfall, leaving black shards in his hair. His cap was long gone. Kato shook them loose, the cobwebs too. His enemy was crawling for the stairs, trying to find his feet and succeeding. Kato flung a Chinese curse at his back and gave pursuit. He balanced up the railing with a quick footed run, hopscotching across the Black Dragon's loping path from one side to the other until he had caught up. He tackled Cānglóng with a bear hug at the top of the stairs.

A new grappling match ensued; this one Kato swore he would not to give way in. Cānglóng tore at his uniform, leaving it in shreds and bloody claw marks on his flesh. Kato swung up and around with his legs about the Black Dragon's middle in a wrestling hold meant to put a man down for the final pin.

He wasn't deluding himself with it: he wanted to break Cānglóng's neck. He went so far as shimming his legs around the neck and arching himself backwards, trying to use his body weight to crush windpipe. Cānglóng buckled but refused to go down.

This position was strong yet vulnerable to Kato's beaten torso. He engaged his core to bring his back out of the arch to try another use of the hold. The Black Dragon, however, found leverage under Kato's leg hold and shoved outward with all his might.

Under the prideful eye of his namesake banner, the Black Dragon sent Kato sprawling the entire way down, hopping and bopping like a tossed rag doll. He spilled across the hard ground surface, certain now he'd broken something…or several things…He couldn't get up; opened his eyes and saw not the temple and its master, but the shimmering glass coffin of his last dâ zhàng. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the vision to pass. He held on to each precious breath, feeling them come and go, shallow and wet.

Cānglóng stood at the top, victorious and in commanded of his domain. As bloody and beaten as Kato, yet victorious; how had he been thrown so off balance that it was a named reality of defeat?

It was then that Kato noted dully the banner shouldn't look the way it did. It shouldn't be alight with such a checkered glow: the candles were still out. A quiet whirring sound stirred him. Sparks and flames arched across the far top wall, across the banner itself over Cānglóng's head, until the whole expanse exploded violently. Smoked seeped in around him, a soft roiling cloud. Fortunately his damaged lungs were not having any of it.

A thrown triangular shaped _**green**_ gas mask bumped him…

* * *

_10:30pm_

_Chinatown_

_Buddhist Temple_

Britt peeked an eye out the closest passenger window, laying low across Casey's back seat. Casey was slung low in her seat as well. Her hair was pulled about her face to obscure her features where the borrowed black mask couldn't. Britt had to admit, she looked quite becoming in that particular accessory…

"There She is!" Casey exclaimed. Britt propped himself up in between the seats just enough to see the Black Beauty's infamous shape parked at the curb of the Temple. "He's getting rather bold, isn't he?" She muttered, looking hastily about for latenight walkers.

"Let me out here, Casey. Then get out of here yourself. Call Scanlon and get him over to the apartment. Wait in the garage."

He slipped head first from her car, crouch-running off his knuckles. He opted for the back entrance. The sounds of two bodies colliding with ferocity leaked without. Britt hurried inside, noting that the back was a convenient way in and out without much in the way of eye-spying from the street. He was under the grand staircase of the temple, far in the shadows where light couldn't reach unless it was daylight, in a perfect vantage point to see the entire opening expanse of the temple.

Candles had burned at one point during the night, their scent still hung sweetly in the air. It was pitch black now. He blinked rapidly, willing his pupils to expand. A lull in the fighting gave him time to become acclimated. Footsteps prowled in the darkness out from his position, quick and light. A fearsome hissing whisper taunted, "I will have to kill you. To prove I am the best now, you must die. The only question is: should I do it now or later?"

Britt froze on the maliciousness, growing less angry with Kato and more so at this voice when he heard, "Fight me, little bee, so I may break you." A whipsnap of motion, then a strangled yell, and the unmistakable sound of bones breaking. One body wrenched another to tumble to the carpet in the middle of the foyer. Britt recognized the compact form of Kato viciously attacking the much larger, heavier framed belligerent on top of him. He took quick note that wing chun or any form of gung fu he'd recognized didn't seem to be present.

Kato suddenly flew backwards from a powerful open handed strike, head meeting floor unforgivingly. His mask appeared eschew, perhaps even broken, and his cap was gone. Britt gaped, wincing. Was Kato losing?

Back to this unknown assailant: the Cānglóng Jimmy mentioned? Because he certainly wasn't Lao Yin. He was crawling, obviously wounded and winded himself, for the staircase and finding his feet well. Britt careened his neck around to Kato when he heard his friend utter a nasty breathy-voiced oath to give chase with just some of his usual feline grace. Up the stairway railing with impeachable balance, then leaping crisscross until he was abreast of his retreating opponent at the top of the stairs for a full bodied tackle, both fell into a no- holds-bar grappling match. They spilled the potted ferns on either side and more than likely cracked the floor. Britt ran without a sound to witness this, internally cheering his partner on to finish it.

Something was off, however: Kato would call it the aura of the building; its _chi_. Whatever it is was, it was **_against_** Kato and **_with_** Cānglóng. He spotted the dark outline of the devouring Black Dragon banner. This was a very different breed of enemy.

He then heard a gurgling half-yelping, half gulping sound. One of the combatants was wind milling through the air, down the entire length of the stairs, bouncing with dull thuds off every other step. Britt gulped for air himself, gasping heavily when he saw it was Kato.

His friend wasn't moving.

"Kato!" He whisper-yelled. Britt spun to see this Black Dragon stand in his glory, bare chested, with arms out stretched at the carnage left below.

"You son of a bitch." Britt said in the same voice and retrieved his Hornet Sting from its coat pocket. He flicked it to the full telescoping length. "Lap this up!" The Sting whirred to life, stirring just a little out of Kato's prone form, as it seared its invisible finger of flame across the banner. He amped up the power, not at all thinking of the damage it would cause in terms of the building's stature, but in terms of cheap revenge: the look of sheer anguish on Black Dragon's face was a whole lot different and satisfying than his look of supreme triumph a second before.

The banner and its wall exploded. Britt slammed the rod down to size and fished two Hornet smoke grenades out, unpinning and launching both. He also retrieved his extra gas mask to pitch it at Kato's side. Using the smoke for cover, he dashed to his friend. Kato was sitting up at least, bracing himself. When he saw and felt his friend kneel next to him, he turned away, "What are you doing here?"

Britt ducked under the tough guy attitude and insisted on the mask, which Kato pushed away. The Green Hornet was not impressed, "I came to get my car." he drolly answered, "I figured if I found it, you couldn't be too far behind."

Kato coughed, "You've got the Beauty. Go now."

"Not without you."

Resoundingly hearty half choking –half gleeful laughter erupted from the flickered banner. The Black Dragon retrieved his trench coat, staggering to put in on in a whirling, strangely jubilant zigzag towards them. He was hellishly outlined by burning embers.

"Well, well, little Black Bee. We are not alone anymore, are we? The master Hornet has come!"

Kato pressed a hand into Britt's chest, pushing him away as he struggled to stand in case he would have to defend. "Get out of here, now!" Britt grabbed his hand, standing with him, "I'm not leaving." He said loudly at the descending Black Dragon. "We haven't been properly introduced." Cānglóng bowed his head, picking at the crusty dried blood of his forehead gash. "Green Hornet, I know you well, sir."

"You're… Cānglóng?"

"Very good…! Your little Bee here is useful for many things, apparently."

Kato planted himself between the two men, glaring from underneath matted sweaty bangs. "Back off."

Cānglóng closed in, not heedful of the warning. "Or what? Your Hornet will sting me? Or you? Really? I doubt it."

He looked over Kato's shoulder at the hulking body mass of the Green Hornet. "I will break your man here…and then I will you. Perhaps not tonight, however. So…"

Kato went rigid, a painful choice of muscle movement, when he saw the Black Dragon's hands disappear up his sleeves. As though he was clasping his hands together in prayer, except…

He wheeled about to physically strong arm the Green Hornet towards the door. "GO!" Cānglóng held aloft a miniature chakram the size of a shuriken, its circular body barbed by small serrated teeth. "My calling card, Green Hornet!"

The Hornet was running for the door but not fast enough; he couldn't possibly have moved fast enough to escape the Black Dragon. Kato saw and understood this, grimly aware that his own reserve of throwing darts was exhausted. He did the only thing he could: he threw himself at the Black Dragon one more time, successfully taking him down.

Britt as at the door…

He wrapped his hand around the chakram as Cānglóng attempted to throw it away in a Hail Mary shot. The teeth dutifully chewed his palm, masticating glove material into the open gash.

Britt was out the doors, into the Black Beauty…

Kato moved to follow. Black Dragon had other ideas. He entangled Kato's legs in his to bring him down in kind. This time he was on top, holding Kato at bay by his battered ribs. Another chakram appeared in hand, its _shrining!_ sound of an all too frighteningly agonizing familiarity.

"Remember this?" Spittle- inducing vehemence flecked Kato's face. Cānglóng purposefully pummeled his left side with a quick series of knife handed blows to drive the chakram into him. The weapon tore flesh and muscle into a gaping wound.

Kato squeeze his eyes shut on the onslaught, accepting the pain as fuel for one big kick to the groin. The weapon remained lodged in his torso but he was free. He sprinted haphazardly for the doors, the Black Dragon's vicious cajoling in his native tongue ringing in his ears.

He shouldered them open to see Britt getting out of the Beauty, presumably wondering what had become of his partner. Kato waved furiously at him to get back in. The passenger's side door swept open for him. His slide in was anything but graceful as he surrendered his body into the seat with a moan. Between the agonies of his broken ribs and the chakram wounds, it was necessary to hold himself at a strained angle. He kept those injuries hidden from Britt as the Black Beauty slammed into gear to flee the scene. His whole left side was slicked sticky wet with blood. Red droplets began to fall on the seat and floor boards.

"That was an incredibly stupid thing to do!" Britt was saying, giving him a fiercely disappointed look. The mask, as usual, magnified the intensity of his eyes. Kato grunted, "No." His broken mask felt heavy on his face so he pushed it off to the floor. He ran his good hand through his hair, mixing sweat and blood to create a greasy sheen, "What you did was stupid!"

Britt matched him by angrily tearing off his mask and tossing it in the back seat, his hat following. "Ohreally!? **_You_** lied to me. **_You_** took the Black Beauty! **_You_** went against our promises! Remember: do it together or not at all?!"

Kato twisted his body to get a better look at Britt, but stopped when he felt shredded skin ripping. He squeezed his eyes shut and slumped, conceding without another word on the subject. Britt eyed him wearily, the lack of his partner's normal dryly sarcastic retort a disconcerting sign. His concern grew. "You lost pretty badly, didn't you?"

"Heh," Kato managed a weak smile, "You didn't see the worst of it, I hope."

Britt narrowed his eyes on the way Kato was holding himself, rapidly looking between the road and the passenger seat. There was a metallic glint on the side of Kato's body he was trying to hide. "Kato, what did he do to you? Where'd he hit you?"

Kato noted the rise in Britt's voice. He swallowed thickly, "More like, where **_didn't_** he hit me…"

In the silence following that response, the _dripdripdrip_ of liquid onto leather stilled both men. Britt's eyes widened. His hand flew off the wheel to reach across Kato for that left side…

His glove came away covered fingertip to bottom hem in fresh blood.

He swore passionately. The Black Beauty executed a screeching U-turn in the other direction. Kato opened his eyes, "Where are we going."

"The hospital." Britt reached over again to locate the metallic culprit. His hand caught on one of the teeth sticking out from the unburied curve of the chakram. He jerked away, afraid of jarring it upon seeing how deeply imbedded it was. He noticed then that Kato's left palm was sliced open and dripping profusely as well.

"I'm not going to the hospital!" Kato tried to sit up against the suggestion.

"The hell you're not! You're going to the hospital. Your side is torn open, you need-!"

"—I know what I need, and the hospital is not it!"

The argument escalated as Britt's worry and fear grew. "You think this is like when I was shot?" He demanded incredulously, "This is nothing like that! I got away with it, Kato, but you can't! Not in your condition. You're going, it's final!"

"No…I can't go, this isn't a normal wound…"

"We'll go to Dr. Thomas. She'll keep quiet!"

"No."

"You're not bleed-!"

"—No!"

"You're not bleeding—!"

"-NO-!"

"-YOU'RE NOT BLEEDING OUT ON ME." Britt stared wild-eyed at Kato, finally getting the last word in edgewise. Kato took a shuddering breath, accepting he was too tired to make his point. He instead chose to hold onto the soothing purring undercurrent of the Beauty's supercharger. His lids grew heavy.

"Hey, c'mon, stay with me." The warmth of Britt's gloved hand curling around his wrist to feel his pulse propped his eyelids opened to slits. His friend was watching him with more scrutiny than he was with his driving. _Now I know why I drive…_

"I'm here, don't worry. Britt, please. I'm telling you." He forced his mind to order itself on the task at hand, "This isn't my first time. I know these wounds well. Don't take me to the hospital. Even if Dr. Thomas does not talk, her inexperience handling this kind of injury won't do any of us any good. Take me home."

He felt Britt's grasp tighten around his wrist. "And you think I can do any better? I told you you're not bleeding out on me."

"Just take me home." He repeated, lips curling into a facsimile of his cocky grin, "Or I'm getting out and walking."

His smile grew on Britt's derisive snort, "The bloody hell you are." The Beauty drifted around a curve in another lilting U-turn, this time homeward. Kato relaxed as much as his body allowed, giving in to the Black Beauty's sense of asylum, and the comforting protective hold Britt kept on his wrist.

_He's alive…I did it. Did a bang up job of it, but I did it._

"Hey buddy, stay with me, okay? Don't drift off on me."

Kato lolled his head toward the voice, mumbling something about just keeping the pain down, not passing out…

"Alright, Kato, alright. Just…hang in there. …Kato? Kato! Stay with me!"


	7. And the Clock Keeps Tickin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Directly mentions events of Bruce Lee's 'Enter the Dragon'. Credit where it's due to Bruce's genius. Again contains quotes from 'Striking Thoughts' and 'Artist of Life' , starred of course. Also mentions Bruce Lee's personal favorite home blend of tea! You can now purchase this blend from the Bruce Lee Store, courtesy of Shannon Lee and the Bruce Lee Foundation! Should be in select stores by the end of the year, and into the next. Chapter title inspiration remains Elle King, this time her southern soul searcher, 'Last Damn Night'.

_10:50pm_

_Penthouse District_

_Reid Residence_

District Attorney Frank Scanlon was used to these late night calls to the Reid Residence. In having the confidence of the Green Hornet, he had to be ready to haul ass at a moment's notice.

What he wasn't used to, however, was awaiting the Green Hornet in his garage. And when he did, it never bode well. He was with Ms. Case, the other in the trinity who knew of Britt's alter ego, after arriving not five minutes earlier to find her wringing her hands and wondering out loud if she shouldn't call.

"He didn't say anything besides what you've told me?" He asked again.

"No! I…all I know is that Kato's in trouble, and he tried to hide his trouble from Britt and handle it himself. Including taking the Black Beauty."

Scanlon fingered the ear piece of his glasses that contained the Green Hornet's transistor and minute speaker for quick communication. No signal had come through yet.

"You don't…suppose Kato's hurt, do you?"

He shook his head, "No, he's indestructible."

"And only human. The people he's running up against are more than the normal gangsters this city sees. And he's doing it alone."

"He should have told Britt."

"He's doing this **_for_** Britt! He was afraid to get him involved."

He looked sidelong at her, feeling her anxiety creep up on his own. They stood in silence at the workbench, watching the tunnel for the Black Beauty. As if on cue, her powerful engine sounds ricocheted off the tunnel walls towards them like a rocket on lift off.

"He's coming in fast!" Scanlon yelled over the racket.

Both scattered as the Black Beauty appeared front end first instead of Kato's usual artful display of backing in.

"Britt's driving!" He shouted over to her. The color drained from her face when she saw the look on Britt's, his cheeks smudged…with blood. He bolted from the car even before he had it in park. The passenger door opened on silent command. His Hornet jacket was off, revealing the now- heavily bloodstained white shirt he wore underneath. Casey held back a yelp, covering her mouth. Scanlon uttered a few choice words, rushing forwards thinking it was Britt who was bleeding. He ignored both their reactions to give orders, "Frank, I need your help! Casey, get the safe room ready. First aid kit too, quickly!"

She nodded rapidly, backpedaling, trying to get a look inside the car. Britt positioned Frank outside the opened door as he reached in, gently urging Kato to get out of the car. She turned away to get at the task given her, deciding she'd see soon enough.

"Kato…Kato, we're home. Give me your hand."

"…I can get out of the car myself. I—augh!" A reflexive cry cut off the rest as he tried to move.

"Sure you can. Now give me your hand-your good hand."

Scanlon swallowed and leaned in, deciding the need to differentiate between 'good' and 'bad' extremities was exceptionally bad news. Britt gingerly hefted Kato out by his right side, draping Kato's arm over his shoulder. Britt's coat had become a blanket/ pressure compress. It fell away. Finally, he got a look…and coughed to cover his gag.

Kato was a mottled bloody mess. His face was bruised and cut like a hunk of meat, but his left side…looked like he'd met up with a saw blade.

"Get him, Frank! And watch that side!"

Well, he's was going to get bloody sooner or later, so he stepped up, mindful of the ripped shreds of skin and cloth. He eyed the odd but nevertheless deadly barbed weapon protruding from his body. Kato was immeasurably light: his deadweight was featherweight. He leaned into Britt, muttering darkly to let him walk on his own.

"No, rather you didn't. I got you, what are you worried about?"

Kato continued to bleed, leaving a long splattering trail behind. His feet alternately walked and dragged themselves through it. He also felt incredibly hot. A fever had set in. Uncontrollable shivering and the onset of shock simultaneously rocked his body.

"How did this happen?" Scanlon demanded.

"No questions. Not now." Britt replied, steely voiced.

Casey was hurrying with the safe room's amenities, putting fresh sheets, blanket and pillow on the cot. In a purposely nondescript area of Britt's basement, it was where the Green Hornet kept those deemed worthy as 'guest', complete with CCTV monitoring capabilities.

She pulled the extra first aid kit from its shelf and set it within reach, wondering how much of it they'd need. It was fully stocked with pilfered professional grade wares, a parting thank you gift from Dr. Hannah Thomas to the Green Hornet.

She rushed from the room in time to see Kato turn the corner, heavily assisted on either side by Britt and Scanlon. Damned if Britt saw or not, she had to turn away to bit back on a sob, eyes scrunched shut in dismay. The enclosed room intensified the stench of blood. The telltale black spots formed in front of her eyes, accompanied by the other beginning signs of a faint. The hell if she was going to let Britt see her go female on him. She sucked in a breath, looking past the blood to see the man underneath.

Britt settled Kato on the cot with a tenderness that belied his chomping-at-the bit urgency to get Kato stable. Scanlon peeled off his soiled suit coat and tie to toss them in the corner. Casey knelt next to Britt, scissors in hand.

"We have to cut that uniform off him."

Britt took charge of that. Kato tossed his head side to side, sweat droplets flicking off the tips of his hair. His agitation made Britt's hand wobble, "Easy, Kato, easy." He patted him on the shoulder, keeping his hand there to steady him. Kato's right hand reached across to touch Britt's, but the cross body action was too much.

All three helped to remove the remnants of the uniform and gloves. They sat back in stunned anguish: Kato's well-muscled torso was a sweaty eggplant colored roadmap to a severe beating. Gouging claw marks slashed his chest. Running from under his floating rib to just above his left hip, the chakram, jutting from the center of the wound up to its middle, had lacerated far into the muscle. His left palm was a miniature version. They were ugly sinewy wounds with dangling strings of tissue and coursing blood lost that left each sick.

Britt moved beyond the initial recoil. "We need to get pressure on these. Casey, give me those compresses. Frank, there's a pitcher of water there. Cool him down some. The iodine too, Casey…"

He wasn't sure where to start on the wound. Scanlon pressed a soaked cloth to his forehead, washing with extreme care across the bruises, any blood or grime. While working on the larger wound, Britt took a fingertip inspection of Kato's rib, the worst of the bruising over them. "Definitely broken ribs…"

"He's burning up."

"I know, I know…Kato, I'm sorry, man, this is going to sting." Kato grunted in response. Casey pulled the blanket across his bare back, stroking his cheek when he flinched on the stinging application of the iodine. She took the other bottle of the stuff to work on his hand. Britt kept pressure but the piling stack of used compresses was not encouraging. He wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand, feeling sticky himself.

"How's the pain? Do you want something for it?"

"…No…no drugs."

Britt pursed his lips, "Christ Kato, if you're in pain…!"

"Drugs are no good…dull pain…and mind."

Britt sighed, hastily checking the wound underhand, disliking the slick hotness coming through the gauze with the blood. Scanlon draped another water soaked towel around his neck, the last seemingly evaporated free of water by the fever. Casey continued on his hand, dabbing iodine and ointment on the tightly wound bandage wrap.

Britt wiped his forehead, his hand shaking just enough for him to notice it. "Really got you pretty good this time, huh?" He dropped his voice just for Kato; their old call and response when one was injured. Kato was with it enough to laugh mirthlessly. More of a hiccup, really, "…No…no stupid beer bottle to blame this time…!"

Britt licked his lips, "No, no beer bottle. You're two for two on your strike outs in ten years. Those are some stats, aren't they?"

"…Yeah."

Britt cringed on Kato's next face contorting spasm of pain, masked by the shivering. Scanlon reached out to put a similarly comforting hand on Britt's shoulder to bring the young man's attention around to him. "Britt…he has to go to the hospital. This is ridiculous."

"Don't you think I know that, Frank? He won't go."

"...No...no hospitals." Kato suddenly perked up from his stupor, alert and fidgety. "No hospitals." He shook his head, the movement ripping skin and sending him into another fit of shaking and spasms. His breathing was increasingly shallow and hitched. Casey shushed him quietly, urging him to relax. "He's in shock, he needs blood." She implored Britt, "Can't you take him to Dr. Thomas?"

"He won't go! I tried."

"I said…no hospitals!"

Britt took his friend's wrist, this time glove-free for full contact with clammy skin. Pulse was fluttery, his color pasty white. The emotions of the night finally caught up with Britt: the futility and failure on his end, and the fact Kato had ultimately attempted to pay on that damn blood oath for his sake. It was like that night on Laguna Beach. He wanted to scream and beat someone's head in for this but neither would help him help Kato. That was the futility…not to mention, Kato was bleeding out in front of him, just as he swore he wouldn't allow and still…! Still Kato refused. Overwrought, the red-rimmed warmth of his eyes gave him away. He clutched his friend's hand, moving his grip so Kato could hold on too, with an encouraging burst of strength, "Kato, if you won't go the hospital: **_where?_** I'm begging you. Tell me."

Kato drifted on those words, his well of reserve energy dried up. He wanted to pass out. Even if he didn't wake up again, he wanted that sweet cool darkness instead of this twisted hot purgatory.

_Live a life worth remembering, Hayashi: that's your secret to immortality.*_

The rawness he saw in Britt's gaze tugged him back. He should have known the ties of the Blood Oath would never let him pay on it. Couldn't leave like this…not ready. Kato clamped down on Britt's hand with crushing force, "C-call Jimmy…Jimmy Kee. Golden Lotus" He coughed, "Tell him…to get the Three Brothers to his place, because you're coming for them. He'll know. Do it fast…because—."

Britt felt him slip. Kato's hand lost his, falling limply away. His pulse was like butterfly wings taking flight.

 _Nononono_!

"Britt, he's-!"

"Kato!"

Fully spent, he fell like a noddle into Casey's and Scanlon's arms. They laid him lengthwise on the cot, covering him in blankets. Britt had one hand over his heart, the other about his wrist, "…He's out. He's just out." A very small 'just', at that. "You stay with him!"

Britt ran for the lift, slamming his hand on the emergency automatic button to his office. Jumping off the cage, he grabbed the phone with steady hands, adrenaline curbing the shakes. His voice dropped to the chilly calculation of the Green Hornet, crisply giving his order and hanging up on the younger man's stammering.

He had no time to change his shirt, but enough for a new jacket. His mask and hat were still in the back seat of the Beauty. He stopped off at the safe room long enough to make sure Kato was still breathing.

"Stay with him until I get back. Anything happens, call me immediately. There's extra mask for him in first aid basket, get that on him. I'll buzz you, Frank, to give you and Casey enough time to get upstairs."

* * *

_11:15pm_

_Golden Lotus Café_

_Chinatown_

Jimmy Kee wrung his hands in his doorway, vigilant for the dazzling green headlights of the Green Hornet's supercar. Upon hearing the Hornet's glacial growl on the phone invoke the name of Three Brothers, his worst fears had been confirmed. His warning for the Green Hornet and his partner to be careful with the Black Dragon had been for naught. **_Why_** hadn't they heeded it? We're they that arrogant? Had they not believed him?

There! The quicksilver glint of moonlight off black skin and fierce green orbs boring down on him made him quiver. Would the Hornet blame him? Jimmy turned away from the car as it slinked to a stop at his curbside. The back seat passenger door swung open to beckon on him and his party. Jimmy ushered three tall wraithlike figures before him, issuing gentle assurances.

Jimmy bucked up, sliding in last. The first thing that hit him was the overwhelming stench of blood. He nearly gagged. The second thing was the devilishly intense stare of the Green Hornet in the rearview mirror.

If the Hornet was driving, then his companion was...?

"Mr. Hornet, " Jimmy began his platitudes earnestly. They were ended by the masked eyes looking away and a gloved hand passing back four blindfolded.

"I'll have to ask you to wear these, gentlemen."

Jimmy took the blindfolds with a heavy heart. The Hornet was furious, he could tell, but it was a well-controlled, tightlipped time bomb fury. He assured the Three Brothers as he secured their blindfolds. He did his last, succumbing to the dark without a sound. The Hornet wouldn't listen anyway...

* * *

_11:15pm_

_Reid Residence_

_Safe Room_

Casey kept her fingers about Kato's wrist, marveling at how his pulse's fluttering had rapidly settled to a slow, almost nonexistent yet steady beat. He was sleeping so deeply, he was unreachable.

"How do you do it?" She whispered at him, dunking a new towel into the ice pitcher for his brow. Scanlon continued to apply pressure to his side, watching her watch him. "This was never supposed to happen." Casey looked to the DA, "Kato had other ideas."

"No, I mean…I always thought Britt would be the one. You know, Kato always seemed…"

"—Indestructible?" She supplied, the very same term he'd so flippantly tossed off earlier. Bet he was regretting that now. "Yes," He said, indeed full of regret, "I should never have said that. He is only human, you were right to counter with that. It's just...I've had my fair share of nightmares from sending Britt and Kato into situations that I knew were overtly dangerous to them, yet in all of those nightmares, it was supposed to be Britt." He frowned on that admittance, taking off his glasses to chew the real ear piece thoughtfully, 'I guess that's a terrible thing to say, but…" His glasses returned.

Casey wiped her brow, only to realize her hands were stained a coppery red -Kato's blood. "There's, uhm," she went on, her voice cracking, "A blood oath between them, did you know that?"

"A blood **_what_**?"

"A blood oath. Ten years ago, Britt saved Kato from being drowned by a bunch of guys Britt thought were his friends. By that time Kato was already his bodyguard but when Britt fought for him like he did, Kato decided the only thing to do about it was to make a blood oath. From that point, on pain of death for the rest of his life and for the rest of Britt's life, Kato swore he would be there to protect him. That's why the Green Hornet partnership works so well, and works the way it does. With this, tonight, Kato thought that if he got Britt caught up in it, would be too dangerous. He…made good on the blood oath."

Scanlon had a deep look of awe and respect blossoming on his face. He lightly touched the young man's shoulder in solidarity. "I didn't know…What's that quote again, Ms. Case?" He mused in a low rumble. "... 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'" He suddenly reached for the transistor earpiece, "There's his buzz. Get the mask." Casey gently slid the accessory over Kato's bruises. When they heard hesitant footsteps approaching, they made their escape upstairs, locking the main exit from the basement behind them.

In Britt's study, she turned on the CCTV to observe the safe room, while the DA took to the bathroom to scrub his hands and splash his face. He returned to the wet bar to pour much needed libation. On screen, she watched the Green Hornet lead four blindfolded men in single filed. She recognized Jimmy Kee. The strangers must have been the aptly named Three Brothers. Dressed in floor length black robes, they were ungainly in height with long spidery fingers to match their braided stomach length beards. In hand, each carried a satchel.

"The most unusual doctors I've ever seen." Scanlon commented. He nudged a glass into her hand to encourage Casey to drink up. She was grateful. "You didn't fool me, Ms. Case…I don't blame you, I almost went over myself. You did alright, though." He raised his glass to her in salute. They sat back to watch in silent observation.

* * *

_Same time, in the Safe Room…_

The Green Hornet closed the door behind them. "You can remove your blindfolds."

Jimmy tore off his first to assist the other three. The aged men were disorientated, looking to Jimmy for guidance. When they saw Kato's thin frame under blankets, their whisperings instantly became strictly business. They set their bags up around them to begin, pointing and nodding at various points of injury.

Jimmy blanched on the reveal of the most gruesome of wounds, spinning away with the back of his hand pressed to his mouth. The room was thick with sweat and irony sweetness. He was suddenly claustrophobic. "M-Mr. Hornet, may I speak you outside, please?"

The Hornet, still at the door standing guard, considered this...and nodded. Once out in the corridor, Jimmy gathered his bearings. It was underground where ever they were...maybe a basement...or one of the Hornet's lairs.

"If you're thinking about trying to figure out where you are, Jimmy." The Hornet shook his head slowly, those cold enigmatic eyes never once straying. "Don't."

Jimmy threw his shoulders back in indignation. He originally wished to express his sorrow for this turn of the events but this man didn't even appeared fazed by what was happening with his partner! "I'm not! ...do you think I wanted to hear such a call as yours tonight? The Three Brothers mean only one thing to our community: fixers...miracle workers; where you go when a gung fu fight goes bad! No, Mr. Hornet. I gave you my warning about Cānglóng so I wouldn't have to send out the Three Brothers to you or anyone else. Why didn't you listen?!"

Under the mask, Britt was asunder anew by just how much he **_didn't_** know. Playing along as if he had been privy, the Hornet flicked out a dangerous finger in Jimmy's face. "Don't question me, Jimmy! How we play things is our business!"

Jimmy took a step back in repugnance, "You played...with your man's life? How can you do that! He's your partner, isn't he?! You fight together, side by side, him risking his life for you. And you gamble with his loyalty as if he is nothing to you?!" Jimmy's voice fell to a hoarse whisper. "You are a monster!"

The Hornet pounced, slamming Jimmy against the wall with tremendous force, knocking the wind and spite out of him. Their noses were inches apart. Kee clearly saw the jump of pulse on the Hornet's neck. The wildly incensed look magnified by the mask made him shrink back. He'd struck a definite nerve.

"You talk too much." The Green Hornet snarled.

He wrenched the kid off the wall by his collar. Pulling the safe room door open once more, he threw Jimmy in. The young man staggered, but didn't fall. He spun around to plead forgiveness, but that dangerous looking rod the Hornet called his Sting separated them by a foot. The Hornet pulled back to his full height, under some resemblance of control again. He tossed a small remote at Jimmy's head. Jimmy examined it in a glance and saw only a single green button.

"When they're finished, or if you need me...signal me with that. I'll be around."

The door locked. Jimmy slumped and shoved the remote in his pocket. From the masked companion's side, where hands and instruments worked with lightning intricacy, the eldest of the Three Brother's reprimanded Jimmy in softly spoken Cantonese. Jimmy nodded in agreement, taking up post at the door. "Yes, I know...I've misjudged him...and so has everyone else..."

* * *

_Meanwhile, upstairs…_

Casey scrubbed her hands and nails. Dull pink water sloshed down the drain. She turned off the hot for cold and splashed her face. She felt flushed, drained—it was a marathon she'd run, or so it seemed. She heard Scanlon tell Britt she was in the bathroom.

"Hey."

She patted her face dry, smiling in the mirror. "Hi."

"You alright?"

She replaced the hand towel. "I could ask you the same thing." At least he'd change out of that bloody shirt.

"More like look at what the cat dragged in, huh?"

She didn't laugh. Britt was trying to make her laugh; that dark humor he easily tossed back and forth with Kato to great effect wasn't hitting her in the same way. "Um, would you like a drink? Think you could use one."

She left him standing in the bathroom doorway, giving her a sideways glance. "Sure."

Scanlon was watching the CCTV with rapt attention, refreshed drink in hand. "Is he going to be alright?" Britt swirled the ice cubes in his glass as Casey poured the bourbon, taking another one to rub across his forehead. "I dunno. Too soon."

"Can we talk about what the hell happened tonight now, or…?"

Casey saw Britt's eyes flash at the DA. "What the hell happened is someone tried to kill Kato and I want his ass, that's what happened!"

"That's not what he meant," Casey blandly interceded.

"Ohhh, I know." Britt charged his desk, taking heaping handfuls of the files on Lao Yin. "A gang of criminals led by Lao Yin, from Hong Kong, have brought their games to the city. I thought it was just a construction racket, now I'm not so sure. Kato put himself right in the middle of whatever it really is because somehow, his old kung fu teacher got involved and disappeared. Tonight, their muscle, Cānglóng, tried to kill him for attempting to put a stop to it. He didn't tell me. I didn't know until it was very nearly too late." He jabbed his finger at the CCTV, "Jimmy Kee knew. He put Kato onto it. That's not happening again. Now I'm getting involved."

"And heads are gonna roll, right?" Scanlon retorted.

"Well, what would you have me do?!"

"Relax, Britt." Scanlon insisted. "Kato's going to need you. Running off into something you don't understand won't help."

"I **_have_** to understand this."

"Alright, then let me look into it. Hell, use the paper. Just no Green Hornet. It's a partnership, not a one-man army. We all learned that tonight." He raised his glass to him and down it with a swift two gulps. "Let me know how it turns out with Kato. I need to get back home if I'm going to be any use in the morning."

Britt sighed, realizing he was increasingly letting his temper get the best of him tonight: first, Jimmy in the safe room, now Frank. "Frank, wait."

He met up with him as he was leaving. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to get angry, I-."

Scanlon took Britt's hand to shake it, seeing that raw look returning, "I understand, alright? Don't worry. He's my friend too…but I don't think that covers it with you two, does it? Ms. Case told me about the blood oath. That's a brotherhood I couldn't even begin to understand. So…if you snap my head off more than once the next few days, I get it."

Britt's eyes cleared, "Thanks, Frank. For everything. You went above and beyond tonight."

Frank clasped his hands, "Take care. Call me."

Casey sipped her drink, continuing her vigil at the TV. She turned away briefly when things got a little messy with the chakram. "What's the matter?" Britt was immediately next to her, peering at the scene with perverse attention.

"His side…"

"Oh." Britt pulled his chair up to watch, the gore remotely relevant. He wiped his eyes to clear fuzzy vision, sniffling. She felt her own resolve crumbling at his attempt to not fall apart either. "We're doing great, aren't we?" She muttered rhetorically. "I need another drink."

"Be careful with that. That's more than you've had in a while."

She rattled the glass stopper of the bourbon colander, her own eyes flashing at him. "How do you know?"

He gawked at her snappishness.

Casey ignored him, pouring and dropping ice in. "I'm sorry." She said into her glass after a moment of awkward silence, "I—I keep thinking about yesterday. Well…actually," She looked to the clock. Midnight. "Two days ago now. It seems so far away, different life all together. I had no idea, neither did you. Yet I felt so confident in telling you, 'Oh. Don't worry. Kato's Superman, he can handle it. If he wants you, he'll let you know.' And you believed me, face-value."

She pointed messily at the screen, "This is what that advice got us." She held out her hand, since washed clean but decidedly still feeling dirty, "I have his blood on my hands. So, if you'll excuse me, I'll be having more than one." She shook her ice at him. Britt tracked her process back to the bar, watching her finally crack, inch by inch, until she held her head in her hands.

"Casey…"

Her shoulders shook in silent sobs. He quietly moved behind her, presenting his shoulder to cry on. She wouldn't look at him, let alone surrender to the offer given, so he pulled her into him, hugging her tightly. The absurd thought that she'd finally gone utterly female on him so he was just pitying her made her sob harder. Must have been the bourbon, if not, then her feminist was showing because of the bourbon …"C'mon, Casey." He said into her hair. "It's okay to cry, especially in front of me. I mean, if you can't, then who can you let it all out too?"

"I know it's okay to cry!" She yelled, muffled by his shirt, fully burying her face as another round hit. If anyone could understand how horribly short-circuiting beating oneself up could be, it was Britt, "You can't blame yourself." He whispered, "And if you do think I blame you, you're crazy. If there's any one to blame…it's me."

That picked her head up, green eyes brilliant behind the sheen of tears, "You can't."

"Sure, I can. He's my best friend, my partner, isn't he? That's supposed to count for something…yet I let him go without question. Seconds thoughts when things started going sideways, absolutely, but before that...? Yeah, he was Superman. That's not right. I can't believe I got so comfortable with something so dangerous to the most vital part of the partnership. False logic," he shook his head, holding her close, "Killer. We're going to have a nice long talk when he's able, about all this." She felt his own tide wave of emotion as much as she heard in his voice, "I don't know how you haven't cracked yet."

He shrugged, "What good would it do me?"

She blinked remaining tears free, moving to her purse to retrieve her handkerchief. "You know better than that, to internalize it."

"You sound like him now."

She wiped her nose, replacing the square of cloth back in her bag. "Because he's right."

Britt held his hand out to her, taking her back over the TV to sit and watch. She stood behind him as he slipped into his chair, the wear and tear showing in his deep sighs and heavy-lidded blinking.

"Soon."

"Soon." she agreed, but even that didn't unclench the tense muscles across his back and shoulders. "Hey… you have to relax, you know."

"No, can't. Still gotta drive them back."

"Don't fall asleep, just relax. I'm not going to blame me if you're not going to blame you. Yeah? But you can't play your emotions so close to the chest. You're going to explode."

He grunted. Without any preamble from behind, soft yet firm hands worked and massaged the exhausted muscle. He gave in, tension wavering then disappearing under her touch, "I, uh…haven't thanked you yet." His childhood-begotten Texas drawl was much more pronounced, a good sign. "I liked the way you handled yourself tonight."

"Did you think I would faint on you, Mr. Reid?" She asked, playfully droll.

"Heh. No. No, what I mean to say," He grew serious, "Is that you were there when I needed you...and you didn't shy away when a lot of others would have. That means a great deal to me."

The CCTV watch continued in comfortable silence.

* * *

_12:30am_

_Monday_

_May 6_ _th_ _, 1968_

_Reid Residence Safe Room…_

Jimmy Kee summoned the Green Hornet.

He materialized moments later, unlocking the door. The Three Brothers bowed as he approached the cot where Kato was under blankets up to his chin. He reached out to his partner, touching his arm. His friend's stillness disturbed him so much so the gloved hand moved to the chest to judge its slight rise and fall. The eldest motioned to Jimmy he wished to speak and wanted him to translate.

Jimmy spoke softly, "Your partner is weak and still feverish, Mr. Hornet. His wounds are very serious. The only reason the chakram shuriken did not do more internal damage is because your partner has extremely well developed musculature in that area. It provided some protection. That said, he likely will make a full recovery. To do so, he must have complete rest in quiet. Overall, his constitution is remarkably sturdy. He will have no trouble as long as he is given what he needs to rebuild his body."

Elder Brother spoke again, Kee following his words, "Also you must know that while he was given intravenous fluids for his dehydration and shock, he did not receive a blood transfusion. Before they managing to stop the bleeding, your friend did lose a fair amount…again they believe his body will be able to recover on its own, as the Three Brothers would prefer for him. He will remain weak until his hemoglobin and red blood cell counts return to normal. Watch him carefully; make sure his intake of meat protein and iron are steady."

Jimmy looked back to the Eldest, awaiting the next chunk. He nodded, and continued, "They are leaving an assortment of herbs and sustenance with instructions, that will help him. No doubt, your companion already has these but this supply will supplement his as necessary." He pointed to the first aid basket, where several large pullstring cloth bags had been added.

The Elder motioned he had one more thing to say. Jimmy averted his eyes, as it was to scold him once more. He shuffled his feet in embarrassment, "They want me to apologize for my outburst earlier. It was unfair, and uncalled for." He bowed. "If…if you were really a monster, you would have let him die. And I wouldn't have asked you to intercede with such faith. I will, to my dying day, be forever grateful to you for trying to help us, to great personal risk, and…thoroughly wishful it had ended differently. Like Britt Reid, you are a true hero. I believe that, our people believe that, even if you are misjudged by others… If you are ever in need again, the Three Brothers will gladly be here for you and your partner. _Xièxiè,_ thank you."

The hard shell of the Hornet fell away again as he took in all the news and instructions to bare them down to basics: he would live. "Thank you." he said stiffly, the rough exterior returning. "I…am in your debt. Not a position I'm used to, but one I will never forget nor ignore. There are many questions I have for _**you**_ , Jimmy Kee…but now's not the time. However, it _**is**_ time to get you all out of here." The four blindfolds appeared again. "Gentlemen, if you will?"

* * *

_6:00am_

_Monday_

_May 6_ _th_ _, 1968_

_Chinatown Underground_

Lao Yin pursued his mentor with long strides to keep up. He was not his usual cool customer today, and had no idea how the Black Dragon **_could_** be. Looking as though he'd gone a 15-round prize fight to just barely scrap out a win (emphasis on 'scrap'), with a splinted left hand on which all fingers but his thumb were broken, and not even breaking a sweat, he was contently strolling through his drafty underground palace as any Dragon would a new domain.

"You should have called me immediately, my shīfu!" His words appeared as punctuated puffs of air in the cool, dank atmosphere of the tunnel.

"So you could have talked him to death?" His sharp chastisement burned Lao Yin. "With respect, sir, you should never have confronted him! Your personal agenda has no place! Not when we're just establishing ourselves!"

The Black Dragon turned on him, the Dragon's eye smoldering. "That is your problem, Lao Yin. Not mine. I am here because I was summoned here, by you, on the accord that everything was in place. It is not, is it?"

"I freed you," Lao Yin corrected, "Not summoned you."

Cānglóng bared his teeth, "Difference of wording and opinion."

"An important difference…sir."

The Black Dragon resumed his stroll, reviewing the changes and reinforcements on this section of the Chinatown tunnels. Above them, the damage to the Buddhist temple was quietly being attended to. "I suppose, Lao Yin, if I truly wish for things to be done my way, I shall have to do them. _Shì de?_

Lao Yin rushed to stand next to him, "What do you mean?"

"The Green Hornet and his partner represented a threat. I was content to let the threat play out. Instead the threat came to me. So I dealt with it. The Green Hornet won't dare approach without his partner, and I assure you, his partner will not be much use for anything for a great while."

"I can appreciate that, but you too took a risk. How did you know you would win?"

"I destroyed the image of my opponent. He had no cover. I laid him bare, as he was taught to do long ago. In doing so…I have confirmed my suspicions: I know who he is. By him, I also know who the Green Hornet is." Cānglóng favored Lao Yin's fish-mouthed expression, "Oh yes. You underestimated me, Lao Yin. Do not do that again?" He was already several feet ahead when Lao Yin snapped to and caught up, "Who are they?"

He ignored the question, instead delivered a withering glare at the other man, "The question you should be asking, is not 'who', but 'why' and 'how'? Why did they come last night? How did they know? Someone is talking who shouldn't be. That is on you. Can you explain?" Lao Yin stumbled of the uneven tunnel ground, stepping in a nasty primordial puddle of mud and gunk in the process, speechless.

"…Jimmy Kee." Canglong responded to his own question with airy surety. "You tutored him while establishing the home network, did you not? And is he not back to claim his tong? And does he not," Black Dragon halted and pressed a hard palm into his chest to stop him as well, "have the Green Hornet's favor?" His gloating omnipotence bowled Lao Yin over, infuriatingly so. "You created a monster. Your own downfall, if you wish. I saved you, little man."

He had no choice but to bow down, as this quasi-demi god demanded it. In fact, he had to go to his knees in the cold mud and kiss his master's splinted hand, " _Wǒ zài nǐ de zhàiwù,_ I am in your debt my Master."

Cānglóng coldly smiled his approval, "Now…we may decide how we wish to deal with this, can't we?"

Lao Yin hurriedly reclaimed his feet, trying to wipe the dirt away with some dignity. He needed to redeem himself in his Master's eyes. He needed something that would appeal to the mastermind's thirst for vengeance… "I have just the idea, Shīfu. …Jimmy Kee is being married to Mary Chang on Friday. Most of the important members of the community will be in attendance. A strike there would send a very clear message."

"Can we handle the attention?"

"Indeed. Our men are working around the clock. By Friday, our network of tunnels will be safe. We will go underground. I will then put a rush order on the rest of my work sites. You will be completely secure."

"I hope so, Lao Yin, for your sake. Let us walk on to discuss it further…"

* * *

_Hayashi Kato crawled home. His row back from the Island, and the trek inland, had taken everything his body had left. Now he hadn't the strength to walk. Guànjūn, the Champion, and he was crawling…_

_Under the moon's guidance, he reached the temple doors of his mentor and great teacher, Yip Man. They were of course open, as Man would never present a closed door to anyone in need of an open one. He was Shaolin, and Shaolin monks lived the Tao as much as they expounded its virtues to their students._

_Kato held back tears at his own personal agony, and at the agony he would cause Man. He should have listened when the old wise man said no instead of puffing out his chest with self-importance to go do the exact opposite. He would face that now, among the many new realities of his life post-fight._

_In the courtyard where he'd spent his childhood and most of his teenaged years learning wing chun and the ways of the Tao, he collapsed. His weak call to Man was carried on the wind yet Man heard somehow, from his room above. His speed was not of a man his age, neither was his gentleness nor his flexibility as he knelt down beside his favorite student. "Hayashi…"_

_Feverish and cold, his torso and feet bare, there was not an inch of his skin that wasn't cut and bloody. His back and chest especially, had been slashed open. "Yíhàn…_ _y-yíhàn, my shīfu…"_

 _"_ _I can indeed see you are sorry. You are also on death's door, come." Yip Man lifted him to his feet, supporting him in the dragging walk inside. In his own bed, he deposited the boy and set about cleaning his wounds. An iodine soaked rag and homemade slave alternately prickled the scored skin with painful stings. The fever was another matter. Kato was growing delirious, reaching out to the mother and father he hadn't had since early childhood. He shouted enrage curses at the evil Han, his body jerking and tossing in would-be acts of gung fun._

_Yip Man brought forth broth and tea, guaranteed to maintain health and spirit against illness and fever. The tea, a homemade mixture of ginseng, royal jelly and honey, was Kato's favorite, and he needed fluids desperately. Man suspected the boy hadn't had anything to eat and drink for a least a day; his skin turgor was terrible, and with his body already going into shock, the situation was grim._

_Yip Man soothed his student with quiet assurances his ordeal was over. He carefully fed him sips of broth and tea. Several times Kato tried to explain but Man would say, "Later, my son. Rest now."_

_The fever refused him his rest, however, as it pushed itself ever hotter to a boiling 103 degrees. Yip Man's brought the fever to task with every remedy he knew, and also called in the local doctor for reinforcement._

_The doctor shook his head, "The fever is only half illness, Shifu. The other half is yours to fix. I leave him to you."_

_The fever plateaued, going no higher. In his state, Kato tried to get up, still believing there was a fight to be won. Yip Man hurried him back in bed. "No, my son. That battle is over."_

_He sat with the boy, continuing to feed him and wash away the sweat. "A fever is your body's own fight against invasion, Hayashi. Relinquish that thought. You are safe. You are wounded but that will heal. I will be here. Take my hand. I will walk with you wherever you go…_

* * *

_Monday_

_May 6_ _th_ _, 1968_

_3:00pm_

_Kato's Room, Basement: Reid Residence_

Britt still wasn't sure how to restrain him properly; there were so many bandages and stitches. "Kato. Kato, it's alright. Shhh, c'mon, buddy."

Kato abruptly ended his jerking torment, groaning and shifting under the blankets to resume his sleep. Britt held him gently into the bed by his chest a second longer just to be sure, before releasing him. He checked his jaw with a probing finger point and winced. Even out cold, his partner had a wicked punch.

These nightmares began after he'd returned from dropping off the Three Brothers and Jimmy. The safe room had been convenient at the time, but would not suffice long term. Britt ever so carefully carried his unconscious partner to his room, putting him to bed and then returning to the safe room to remove the CCTV equipment. He replaced it in Kato's room for easy monitoring. Casey had remained long enough, so Britt urged her to go once he knew he'd be able to watch Kato himself. She left exhausted, but not without giving him the quickest of kisses on the cheek. He was stunned just long to muster up a schoolboy grin.

He'd turned on the CCTV, expecting to see Kato unconscious. Instead he was a mess of tortured agony, screaming undecipherable Chinese and the name Han over and over. Britt swore, and raced down to Kato's basement sanctuary to calm him, afraid he'd start tearing stitches next. He'd stayed in Kato's room the rest of the night and into the early morning hours, combating three more like the first.

This last one had been different: he called out to Yip Man several times, begging forgiveness _._ He would descend into the undecipherable Chinese at that point and Britt would lose the context from there. The fever was relentless on his mind; was he getting any rest at all?

Britt dug through the first aid kit he'd left on Kato's dresser, separating out the little draw string bags the Three Brothers left. He was relieved to see the instructions for their uses and when they should be given to Kato were in English. The recommended tea blend sounded delicious even to Britt, who wasn't the biggest of tea drinkers himself. He decided to leave Kato be, who was the quietest he'd had been all night, and get to the kitchen to work through some of these recipes.

The phone was ringing in his study when he returned upstairs. He answered it, hoping it was Casey, but instead heard Axford's blustering on the other end.

"Britt! Where are ya? I got those prints on your desk. Aren'tcha coming in?"

"It's three in the afternoon, Mike. What do you think?"

He heard Mike gathering himself for his next round even before he'd finished his sentence. "…Well Holy Crow and Saint's preserves us, Britt Reid, you're a lout! Your father, Bless his soul, came to work every day, on the dot, even on the day you were BORN! It'suh Monday in May for God sakes! What could be so import—"

"Mike, will you just shut up!"

Axford lost his head of steam, stammering and stumbling through: "I—what—you—shut up?!"

"Yes. Just shut up for two seconds, okay?"

"Mrrr-fine!"

"Thank you. Jesus, Mike. …Kato's sick. Is that satisfactory enough for you? I can't leave him here alone, he needs to be watched. So if you don't mind-!"

"Oh! Oh…uh, I'm sorry to hear that. Kato…sick? That's unusual. Uhm. Wellsure, Britt, that's more important. Why didn't you just say so?"

Britt muttered something crude under his breath. "You hardly give a man a chance, that's why. Look, is Ms. Case there?"

"Er, no, matter a fact she's not. Think it's a bug goin' around? I mean, Kato's sick and now Casey."

Britt twitched his mouth, looking down at his hands, scrubbed repeatedly through the night. "No…I know what's wrong with her."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Leave the prints on my desk. I'll…get them later."

"Uh, well, iffin' you don't mind me suggestin', I could bring them over? This story is breakin' by the minute, Britt! We can't let ourselves get scooped!"

Britt frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Only that I was down at the work sites this morning, trying to make up for yesterday, and getting' caught. They're buzzing like beehives. Looks like the City finally lit a fire under Lao Yin's ass!"

"Wait…you're saying they've starting work again? Just like that?"

"Just like that. I discreetly asked one of the boys down there, as a curious citizens you know, what the big rush was. He said the word comin' down to them is it's a personal rush order on the sites from Lao Yin himself.

_The game is complete! He's getting out of town._

Britt slapped the top of his desk, "Bring them over, Mike! Quickly as you can!" He hung up on him to call Casey's apartment.

"Hello?"

"Casey, it's Britt."

"Ohhi, hey…sorry, I'm kind of out of it today."

Britt smiled, "I understand completely. Look, um, I hate to ask this, since it's only been about…14 hours, but can you come over?"

"…What is it? Is Kato worse?" She asked, suddenly anxious.

"Well…he's still out but he's had these nightmares, kind of fits actually, throughout the night. I sat with him to make sure he didn't hurt himself worse. Thing is, the situation is changing rapidly with Lao Yin. Looks like Kato stirred up something last night: I just heard from Mike that Lao Yin's put a rush order on all the work sites to be completed ASAP."

"He's running."

"Exactly. But not before I know what the true game is and how Kato and his master are involved. I owe that much. Obviously Kato still has to be watched…"

"I'll be right there."

Britt relaxed, rubbing his tired eyes, 'You're an angel, you know that?"

"Like you said before, flattery will get you everywhere." She said, and he knew she was smiling as she said it. Britt grinned, rubbing the spot on his cheek where she kissed him. "That's the general idea. Hey! Wait, uhm…how good are you with Chinese food?"

"You mean making it? Can't say I ever have. It's the little bags the Three Brothers left, right?"

"Yeah, there's tea and some other things. He has to eat…especially for the blood loss."

"Long as there are instructions, I can give it a shot."

"Great, see you in a bit." Britt hung up a lot easier than he had on Mike and rushed to the bathroom for a shower. He'd only scrubbed his hands and changed his shirt since the ordeal began. The accumulations of sweat, blood and grim elsewhere wasn't helping his concentration any, although sleep deprivation probably had a lot do with it as well. He'd sleep later, much later. And eat… these were the small things he couldn't afford right now.

Jumping in for a hard scrub, and right out ago with quick toweling, he dressed in a casual long sleeve and khaki pants. Mussing his hair with his fingers, Britt returned to the study and the CCTV: Kato was resting easy. The doorbell rang…he waited for the telltale sign. Hard insistent banging on the door followed. Bingo.

"Coming, Mike, coming!" He switched off the CCTV and jogged for the door. Axford marched in even before he was invited, waving the photos, 'Got 'em!"

"Good to see you too." Britt intoned dryly, closing the door. "Keep it down, will you? Kato's trying to sleep."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry." He handed the photos off triumphantly. "There's that fella I was tellin' ya about." He crowded in to point out the beefy Chinese, dressed in a long black trench coat, cinched ankle pants and sandals. The black dragon tattoo across his shaved head and down around his eye stood out with commanding effect.

"Cānglóng…" Britt whispered, spitefully. So Kato's assailant was indeed with Lao Yin. Talk about connections…

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Thanks, Mike. There are some more angles to this story I have to work out. Keep up the good work. Call me with any more developments, okay?"

"More angles? Whaddya mean? Can I help?"

"No, Mike." Britt steered him towards the door, patiently shaking his head. "Just let me handle it? Your, uh, usual tactics wouldn't go over so well for this work."

"Usual tactics? And just what do you mean by that? My dynamic and tireless pursuit of a good story, is that what you mean? Why, Britt…! That's a sign of a true reporter, you know that!"

"Oh really?" Britt opened the door for him, "And here I thought I was just a lout. Bye, Mike." The sour look on Mike's face as the door closed on it was priceless. He brought the photos to his desk, building up the mounds of paperwork. He looked over the mess, chiding himself to organize or he wasn't going to get anywhere. Shuffling the papers around into presentable stacks, he picked up the sheet detailing Lao Yin's activities in Hong Kong. The untranslated phrase 'dâ zhàng' bit at the back of his mind.

_What if that's the key?_

He switched on the CCTV and sat back in his chair, mulling it over. He picked up the phone, juggling it in his hand. Even if it wasn't the key, dâ zhàng could present the break he needed to find the real one. He dialed the number for the Far East office of the Daily Sentinel, transferring twice through the delegated channels until the he was patched through. He gave his name, received the due respect and cordiality as the big boss, and then asked to be transferred to the linguistics department. The head of that department, Feng Wu, answered. 'Mr. Reid. It's a pleasure, sir. How may I assist you?"

"Feng, I have a few questions I need to be answered for a story back here in the states. My first one is just a matter of translation. The phrase dâ zhàng —it's not translated in the files. What does it mean?"

Gnawing open silence on the other end: "Feng?"

"…Please hold, Mr. Reid. I'm afraid I can't answer that. I will transfer you to someone who can. Good day, sir." He sounded as though he was shaken by the question and at the same time mightily glad he didn't have to answer. Britt was puzzled by that reaction. His call was rerouted and answered by a gruff and short, "Britt?"

He blinked, floored by the voice, "Charlie?"

Charlie Rose was an old friend of his father's; an old man himself, now. He was the Chief Editor of the Far East office, or had been. Britt could have sworn he'd retired ages ago. "Charlie, you old warhorse! Is that you?"

"Hehehe, hey kid. What the hell's going on with ya?"

"Jesus, I thought you retired!"

"Don't even look at whose checks ya sign, huh? You haven't grown up a bit, ya punk!"

Britt grinned, genuinely pleased to hear the berating. "Old enough to know better but still young enough not to care all that much about it. You're not Chief Editor still?"

"Nahhh. Left that job. I hang around to make sure these young jokers don't start things on fire over here."

"Hah! You're the best one for that job! Started a few fires yourself in your day."

"Your father was a showman and liar, best there was. Only believe half of what he told you." Charlie chuckled over the line. He cleared his throat, hacking through the phlegm of too many years spent smoking cheap cigars. "Uh, Britt. So the reason you called…"

"Yeah, I just need a translation: dâ zhàng. I asked Feng Wu from Linguistics but he said he couldn't answer. What does **_that_** mean? It's not a difficult question, is it? He rerouted me to you."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Charlie sounded resigned, as if this call had long been suspected and awaited. "That, uhm, was your father's doing."

"My father?"

"Yeah…so Kato finally told ya, huh? I didn't think he ever would."

Britt swallowed, his eyes darting to the CCTV. "What are you talking about?'

"…Wait, he **_didn't_** tell you?"

"I don't…have time for th—Charlie, just tell me what the damn phrase means!"

"Well hell, kid. It's a lot more complicated than you realize! If Kato hasn't told you yet, then it's not my place to explain!"

Britt sat forward in his chair, angry at being yanked around. The last 14 hours, he'd had his fill of it. "You have to tell me, Charlie. Something big is going on over here. I need all the answers I can get! It's personal to me, now. Kato **_is_** involved…and I have to know why, fast! So you better just answer the goddamn question or I'll forget how much you mean to me and meant to my father!"

Casey arrived, letting herself in with her key. She heard the yelling through the door, and cocked her head at the topic of conversation. She peeked in to Britt's office to find him pitched forward in his chair with a piqued tinge in his cheeks. No doubt those piercing aquamarine eyes were flashing too. She gave a quick wave to let him know she was here. He nodded at her, completely absorbed in the call. She shrugged and made her way to the kitchen to look over the things left for Kato's recovery.

Britt's ear crackled with Charlie's long drawn out sigh, obviously annoyed and very ticked at him for busting his balls like that. "All right, kid. I'll tell ya, but the minute I get off the phone with you, you go and ask Kato to explain the whole story because I'm only going to give enough to cool ya off!"

"Fine, fair enough."

"Alright," Charlie barked, settling in to tell his half, "Look… dâ zhàng …is the Chinese name for the underground fight rings of Hong Kong, and China at large. These underground fights are like our prize fighting, only here it's kung fu—every form and style imaginable. Some are until a fighter gives…most are to the death. There's honor in all of them…to a point, because there's a shitload a' money going in and out on 'em. The elite fund and run these fights, mostly Tong and government men. A lot of 'em run their own fightyards, training these kung fu men and loaning them out like gladiators."

He paused here, clearly not wanting to continue but Britt's glowering presence on the other end forced him, "Your father made me swear to stick around here in Far East office as long as I could…just in case this call you're making right now, ever came. And if it did and if I was still kickin' around, it was to be transferred to me only, and I would answer to try an' explain. The old dâ zhàng of Hong Kong ended 14 years ago with a very blood and now-legendary tournament at the island estate of Han, the biggest of the Asian narcos. He was one of those guys who thought his shit didn't stink, and everything he did in the name of gung fu was right and just. His fights and tournaments were the worst…kinda seemed right and fittin' he finally got his in his own yard. Anyway, that last fight brought the whole set up down around everybody's ears, and the kid who did it, singlehandedly, was smuggled out of Hong Kong very soon after by his teacher and mentor under the protection of Henry Reid, owner/publisher of the Daily Sentinel, courtesy of yours truly. You were never supposed to know until it was decided you should."

A cold chill swept over Britt, giving him goosebumps. His mouth opened and closed several times wordlessly as he struggled to comprehend. His eyes returned to the CCTV. Kato tossed and turned in the onset of another nightmare.

"Charlie,' he gasped, "Are you telling me…Kato…?!"

"Ain't saying nothing more. Get off the phone, kid, and do what I told ya. I said my bit. Take care."

"Charlie, don't hang up!"

He clicked off, leaving Britt dangling. Britt slammed the receiver down, swearing, "Shit!" He huffed out several breaths, staring at the CCTV, in stark naked disbelief. All those nightmares, the cursing of the name Han…

"What is it?" Casey came in, wiping her hands on dish towel.

Britt swallowed, covering his mouth with his hand as he dealt out how he would tell her. "I, um, figured some things out." He said through his fingers.

"That's awfully cryptic?" she said, bemused.

"For one thing, I just figured out what dâ zhàng means."

"Oh?"

He didn't answer, instead checked the screen. Sure enough, "I have to go to him. He's having another one of those nightmares." They went together down to Kato's room. The air was ripe with sweltering tension. "Oh my God," Casey exhaled, watching his twist and toss under the covers. Britt positioned himself next to the bed so he could gently and easily hold Kato still by his chest. His jaw visibly worked. _Why did you never tell me!_ "Be surprised at what the subconscious can dig up."

* * *

 _"_ _Hayashi…Mr. Reid offers you so much more than I ever could. The papers are signed, you have a passport and a visa—American. Take his offer: go."_

 _"_ _Leave you? You would ask that of me? I realize what I've done is wrong and against everything you have taught me, and I go to my knees for forgiveness, Shīfu!"_

 _"_ _Don't, my son. On your feet. Do you not see that this is for your own good? Hong Kong is turmoil over this! You killed one of the most important men in all of China, nevermind the most contemptible—it is not our place to judge. You are too well known for all the wrong reasons—Han's men will come for you. I mustn't allow that."_

 _"_ _Then I will fight them too!"_

 _"_ _Hayashi…you are barely healed. You can't stay. The decision is ultimately not yours to make. I am in keeping of you, and I decide. You are going. America is for you, now."_

 _"_ _No! It's a foreign land, I will not know anyone!"_

 _"_ _You know Mr. Reid. He's a good man. And Mr. Reid has a son, just about your age. You will grow up with him. They are a fine family. You will thrive in America with them. Make a name for yourself. Honor me and your homeland, always, Hayashi Kato."_

 _"_ _Shīfu Man! Please! I will stay with you! They will come for you, too. What then?"_

 _"_ _You leave tomorrow. Sleep now. You will need your strength for the long journey…"_

* * *

_6:00pm_

_Kato's Room_

_Basement: Reid Residence_

_…_ _White topped waves dashing on the rocks, screams of agony and mercy. Breaking glass, streaked in red…._

Kato was flung from unconsciousness by the crystalline crashes of a distant past. He panted, looking around wildly with a fist cocked and ready. His chest felt tight, constrained against his rapid breathing.

"Wha-?" He flung off his covers. His torso and left hand were tightly wrapped in bandages and gauze. Absorbed by the gross change, he slowly pressed himself into the blankets face first as the hot poker pain returned with fragments of memory.

" _Gǒupì! Wángbā dàn…!"_ He moaned, cursing into the bedcovers. He sucked air; picked himself up with tender hesitancy, taking in the surroundings. He recalled he hadn't been in his room, as he was now. He must have been moved. When: time was elusive to him.

The settings were comforting, but lonely. The lights were off and there was a dare-to-hope feeling present, as if he was being watched by someone who was afraid of seeing some unwanted result. He decided to test himself, wiping his brow of hot perspiration as he dangled his legs over. His arms wobbled with the effort.

The lights came on in the basement. He jerked away. Hurried footsteps rushed the stairs, "Kato!"

Britt caught him just as feet touched ground and legs buckled. "I've got you, I've got you…" He returned him to bed, hands resting easily on his shoulders. Kato nodded gratefully, coughing through the hitch in his ribs. "We... we have to stop meeting like this." He joked weakly. Britt laughed, pressing his hands down to rest more firmly in a brotherly squeeze. "We do, don't we?"

He looked Kato over, relieved to see him awake. His color was poor, and there was a permanent pained skew in his features, but he was trying to put on the cocky unbeatable confidence for Britt's sake. "I, uh, I was worried about you." Britt said. The minimalist approach to his concern wasn't fooling either of them; that rawness had returned to Britt's face as Kato affected a more relaxed lean. "Didn't I say I'd always be alright?"

"Heh, you did…took some convincing this time, you know?"

 _I won't accept losing you_ was heavy-pressed into that statement. Kato nodded, "I know." His side seized with two huge hammer blows, the spasm pushing him into the bed for relief. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of something else. Britt hovered, "What is it? Your side?"

A quick nod, "It's fine, it's fine. It's passing."

"Could be some are stitches are loose; you were very restless. I can unwrap the bandages to look? They should be changed, anyway."

"No, no." Kato waved the idea off. "It's- it's gone." He sat up, keeping the way he held himself in close check, "I, uh, I would like to eat something, actually."

Britt relaxed, "Hungry?"

"Starved."

Britt liked that attitude. "Alright, great. We prepared some stuff for you."

"'We'?"

"Casey was here. She couldn't stay, still wiped out from last night…"

Kato sobered, keenly aware of what they had done for him…and forced to see in the process. He rubbed his nose, "I'm sorry."

Britt paused on the staircase, looking back on him as he apologized; no doubt the first of many, "We'll talk about that later. I'll be right back." He returned with a tray of home. Kato brightened at the choice of fare. "The Three Brothers?"

Britt nodded, taking Kato's armchair and pulling along beside, "About two hours with you…how come you never mentioned them before?" Kato tasted the noddle soup, savoring its spice. "Didn't think I'd ever need them." He admitted, "They're a last resort."

"Jimmy Kee said the same thing."

At Jimmy's name, Kato looked over the rim of his tea cup (pleasantly surprised to find it was his master's old blend), expecting Britt to use it as a launching pad. He didn't. "How long was I asleep?"

"Seventeen hours. It's about 6 now, Monday."

He grunted, "Was I…out of it?"

"You could say that."

Kato frowned, "That's my usual. I'm glad you only had to see it this once."

"So you've been this badly injured before?"

He swallowed his mouthful of tea, returning to his soup before answering. "Yes." Again, he suspected Britt wanted an explanation, but still he didn't push. This was becoming a tricky dance. Britt reached back for the first aid basket, searching without looking for their mercury thermometer. "Hey, when you're done with your soup, I need to take your temperature."

Kato felt his own forehead: still hot. "No, don't worry about it. I just need more sleep. I'll be better tomorrow."

"It's not going to be a matter of days, Kato. They said lots of rest in quiet. So don't think I'm going to let you get up and move around."

"I have to get up at some point; I may be adept at staying quiet, but not staying still."

"You lost blood—and you didn't have a transfusion. So yes, I think you should get used to be still **_and_** quiet." Britt gave it right back to him, steadfastly adamant. Kato was aware of the Three Brother's aversion to blood transfusions unless strictly necessary to maintain life; he was also aware that half his weakness was from the fact he'd lost enough for a transfusion to even be an option. Bravado wasn't in Kato's nature; his confidence and cockiness was stemmed from a wholly different and nobler source. Neither was being sick and beholden to someone else. It made him uncomfortable, so downplaying as much as possible was a natural mechanism.

Britt recognized his discomfort as more than physical and tried to reassure him, "How many times have you sat with me? Partners, remember? I'm not riding off into that sunset without you."

Kato nodded fondly at that particular line, and melted into the sheets under him. "I give." He grinned. Tea and soup devoured, bathroom visited, Kato drifted off again. Britt stayed in vigil far into a night of inner contemplation.


	8. It's Dangerous, The Things We Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: When the going get's tough...just keep hammering on. That's the crutch of the situation here. Luckily the writer's block broke. Back in business! Asterisked lines are direct quotes or allusions to Bruce Lee and/or his philosophy. This chapter also overtly and bluntly covers the events of Bruce Lee's 'Enter to Dragon'. (Also asterisked). Title is again from singer/songwriter Elle King, and her rollicking hit "Under the Influence".

A portrait canvas bursting with color. Red rose, blue rose, yellow rose, white rose, pink rose, orange rose. Each petal vividly alive, telling a story in their watercolors. Slender fingers, tipped with painted lightly pink nails, tenderly traced their lines. The painting hung with a command view on the foremost wall of Kato's room. It was the first thing he saw when he awoke each day.

Vibrant green eyes turned from the artistry, pouring over the rise and fall of the chest of the bed's occupant.

She never knew he'd kept it.

* * *

Kato assumed consciousness with a start, stuck in the twilight zone between awareness and nightmare. He struggled through the leaden weight of his eyelids, of his whole body, to clear this unsettling fog. The ambiance greeting him was anything but helpful: candles flickered alight in their glass vases, an incense burner frothed the air with a gently cloying scent. …Jasmine…but he never burned jasmine scented incense before. Bracing against the tightening ache of his torso, he clutched at the bandages to flip over carefully.

There was a definite presence in the room aside from him. Radiating jasmine…joined by something spicier her couldn't place. His pupils dilated to accept the faint illumination as he inspected the space.

Time was again elusive. This guest was not.

"Hi." The simple greeting zinged through his ears, rattling the cobwebs. He clenched his sheets in his fists, focusing on the head of his bed, to the recliner Britt had occupied before. Casey lounged, at ease but very much alert, knees scrunched to her chest. Her casual long sleeve and clam digger outfit with tousled updo spoke volumes.

She'd stayed up to watch him.

His gaze restricted to her sleepily contented expression, poignant relief underwriting the nonchalance of her lounging. Then moved to above her head, where the Rose painting hung. The only non-Chinese piece gracing his walls. Ever…to grace his space; especially gracing his space.

"Casey." He gathered the blankets around him, wholly unnerved.

"I hope you don't mind the mood setting," a smile evident in her voice, "I thought it would help you sleep."

"No, I don't mind." He relaxed an inch, administering a stiff-finger massage to his scalp through the helmet of grimy hair. "Er, what…time is it?…"

A soft laugh, and switching of position to supinate her wrist to check her watch, "6:30 am, on the dot. **_Wednesday_**."

The massage cut itself short. "…Wednesday?...It was Monday-!"

"Mmmhmm. That's right. You've slept for almost two days." She unfolded herself to stretch lithely forward, "Don't look so put out. You needed the rest."

"…Well, perhaps I should get up then…" He made the jump from stock still to swift motion, pulling his covers back. Her sharply voiced objection stopped him. "You stay in bed! Britt told me you would try to get up when you awoke. ** _I_** refuse to have to carry you back when you face-plant!"

He flushed at the very idea, "No, certainly not…" His eyes gleamed when he tilted a bemused look at her, still mulling the prospect over, "Besides, you couldn't handle me anyway."

She scoffed, "Your sense of humor is intact, at least." Her hands made scooting motions, prompting him to get back under those covers, which he obliged, double quick.

"Satisfied?"

"No." She crossed her arms. "Not until I take your temperature, change those bandages, and get some food in you." All spoken with grocery list airiness. Kato's hair stood on end, "Now wait just a moment! You are not-! Where's Britt?"

"Why so modest? I'm not squeamish—much—Are you?"

"Well…on certain things, yes. I'd really rather you didn't. I'm fine. I am in bed, covered up-."

"You have pants on. I'm not going to **_undress_** you."

Kato scrunched his eyes shut, mentally slamming his ears shut . "Casey, please. This is all unnecessary!"

Suddenly she was angry. The room was alive with it, the incense swirling, the candles dancing. Like the temple…his head swam nauseatingly under the similarities. "So keeping you alive and healthy is unnecessary!" She flared.

He shook his whole body no, "I didn't say that. I—I don't-."

"Well, what **_did_** you mean? What did you **_think_**? You could hide behind the stoicism, the hard kung fu exterior, all alone? **_Die_** alone in a cold empty temple?"

"My intention was not to die-."

"—but to leave us in the dark wondering whether or not it was?!"

"You know why I did it."

"To save Britt." she spat. "Yes, I know. What would that have left him if you had died? What kind of promise is that: one life for another when both could have been saved?!"

"A uniquely spiritual promise." He replied, squaring himself under her onslaught with penetrating pathos. "Made to be kept."

That was the wrong thing to say just at the wrong time. 'Made to be kept' translated into a goal, a state of mind he'd work toward until he succeeded. Reduce her feelings and cares to sand shifting through her figures. What she'd done for him could not be reduced. In doing so, he broke her fragile resolve. His fierce sentimentality absorbed with deep flinching, her white unblemished features betraying his devaluing. Casey hugged herself tightly, sight blurring, stomach churning. "What am I going to do with you two?" Hysterically nervous laughter racked the question. "You both want to die for the other and the only thing keeping you from that IS each other!"

Kato eased from the bed with the careful grace of a cat unsure of its bearings after a fall. He approached, showing no harm meant even though evidently inflicted, took her hands in his, pulling her to sit before she teetered over. "Casey…" he consoled, until she pitched herself away from him, zeroing in over her shoulder at the Rose Portrait. "I should have known something was wrong." She sighed after a moment of deep disquiet. "Even before Britt did." She gestured half-heartedly, "Your last call to the office. You called me Casey. You hadn't done that in years."

 _New Year's Eve, 1959…_ "No, I had not. Guess almost gave myself away." He teased quietly, attempting to be disarming of the intense cat-eyes. "I think you wanted to give yourself away." she stated. His silence rifled the air with its stoniness. He was unwilling to surrender that much. Not in this smoky illusory atmosphere, stripped bare of his armor. As it was, she was leaning closer, seeing right through the reticence. "You kept it."

The ache of his ribs caught his breath just as much as her words, their warmth caressing him after slapping with their boldness. When he was able to speak again, he tried to diminish, "It was a gift." She cocked her head to the right, denying that without a word. The portrait grew in the background until it was all he saw. He scrunched his eyes shut, wrangling with Casey's mute retraction as the popping petal colors crowded in, "It was a gift and with any gift I could have graciously accepted but never hung it. It doesn't really even fit in this space, it is not me…" His rush of words collapsed into a hard swallow. Cool, smooth hands grasped his sweaty ones; cupped his cheeks, stroked the fever's heat away.

"It's not me," he started anew, gingerly, "But to Mrs. Reid, its beauty meant something: happiness, joy, hope." His eyes opened, eyelash by eyelash, finding Casey's, "She always said…it was the first time she had ever seen me fully smile. She was proud her roses inspired as much as that, but really, she knew the truth: it is the company you keep as much as the setting."

The significance tumbled over her like cold water, briefly shocking her system then releasing her with a vivacious splash of pink in her cheeks. The smile blossoming ear to ear hurt her face until she tempered it with a hard squeeze of his uninjured hand. "Is that why you kept it?"

He returned the squeezing gesture, "Yes. So I will always remember the moment I was… ** _happy_** with my new life in America. And the time, the place, and the person who unlocked that door for me."

Her studiously combing gaze moved up and down. "I wasn't very fair to you, Kato."

Tight-lipped, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"In the rose garden…I knew what you were doing. Why… Didn't give you much of a chance."

"You don't have to apologize for that. I regret nothing. You think I should begrudge Britt for, what? **_Stealing you away_**? That is an Americanism if I ever saw one."

"How blunt you are." She said tartly, swatting him.

Shrug, "Besides, I did promise to beat him up for you if he chose not to come around to his senses. I haven't had to yet, have I?"

"No, you haven't." She agreed. "Sometimes I wonder, though, honestly. If-."

"If you two can manage it." He finished sagely. "Oh, you will. He's not so stubborn or shortsighted as to not see it for himself: you're meant to be."

Cat-eyes narrowed, "Do you believe that?"

"Absolutely."

"Why?"

Kato smirked sadly, distant, staring _**into**_ the rose portrait. "As my master once said, _it's like a finger pointing away to the moon._ _Do not concentrate on the finger or you will miss all of the heavenly glory'._ "*

* * *

**_8:00 am_ **

**_Wednesday_ **

**_May 8_ _th_ _, 1968_ **

**_Reid Residence_ **

"I still say this is a horrible idea. You're supposed to stay in bed." Casey murmured from behind, hands brushing his back in support if he needed it. So far, the basement stairs were an easy match for him. He responded by cinching his bathrobe tighter, picking up speed to a light sprint.

"Kato…!"

He flung himself into the bright morning cheer of aboveground. The apartment was open today, airing out. Sunlight highlighted its voluminous living spaces, a glorious salute to the promise of a brand new day.

"I see you've kept busy while Britt stood his watches. Thank you, I can't imagine attempting to dig out."

"Britt wouldn't let you anyway. But no problem. I had to get the smell out." She wrinkled her nose, crossing the floorplan for the living room/office to plump up couch pillows. "Bacon."

Kato shoved his hands into terry cloth pockets, "Didn't waste much time breaking the diet…" Instead of taking up the couch as offered, he was intrigued by the mess of Britt's desk. Unusual. He took a handful of paper, shuffling, skimming. Heart sinking and singing with each line. He went around the back to lean on the chair, reading from the typewriter.

Casey let him, watching acutely.

"I can see why you didn't want me up here." He said after reading through another handful. "He's been busy too." His eyes leaped over the paper's edge, hitting her hard with their blithe chill. "How much does he know."

Casey shrugged.

"He should drop it."

Another shrug, "You can talk to him about that."

Kato tossed the materials back to their haphazard state. "We will."

She unstuck her tongue, clearing her throat. "Uhm. Should probably get you something to eat? We've done the temperature, changed the bandages..." She retreated to the kitchen, calling out, "What do you want? Anything special or specific?"

He was at her elbow before she could even turn around for an answer. She jumped in her skin, 'Geez-!"

"Er, sorry. Where is Britt?"

Her heart returned to beating normally, "Uh, out. Out for a walk. It was my turn to watch you so he tried to get some sleep. When that fails," she recounted succinctly, "And when work fails, he walks." She gestured, "… ** _broods_** …different things to get his mind straight." She pirouetted in place to lean back on the counter, tapping her nails, "He should be back soon. He'll want to talk, it's the only way all this information, these facts, torrid or on point, are going to make sense. The only way either of you is going to move forward."

He clouded over with a darker pall that curled his lip and sharpened his eyes to black points. "It's useless then. He knows but he doesn't comprehend. **_There is no moving forward._** "

Britt's key jangled in the front door.

Kato turned on his heel, returning to the couch to act naturally, which was to look absolutely exhausted, and he did—was, to the bone. Casey met Britt, taking him off the side to discuss. Whatever was agreed upon had Casey gathering her things to leave. "Take your time." Britt said as she left.

Their face off was silent, assessing. Britt wincing at Kato's bruising and stiffly leaning pose, Kato inwardly judging of the tension and exhaustion etched haggard and raw. The only aspect unchanged was the brightness of the aquamarine gaze, sheared with spirited hope.

"I knew keeping you in bed would be impossible…how do you feel?"

Kato's head crooked to the right at the hoarse creek coming out of Britt's mouth in place of his voice. "Sounds like somebody else should be in bed, not me."

A harrumphing snort. "Since you can dodge the question, I'd say better."

"…getting there, is that more concise for you?"

"Why is it," Britt crossed his arms, biceps bulging against his shirtsleeves, trying not to grin, "that you get more sarcastic in the time I'm away than when I'm here?"

"More… 'diabolical', was the term I believe. That's easy, your great steadying presence grounds me. Without it, I'm like a leaf in the breeze." He replied grandiosely, pantomiming with his hand a fluttering effect. Britt aggressively took the two steps needed to sit on the edge of the couch beside him, poised and staring. Kato pulled back, appraising his steeliness. "I know that look."

"Time to be serious, Kato."

"I know that tone of voice, too…"

"…you're not being serious."

"I slept for almost two days straight. Allow me a moment of whimsy."

"There's no time!"

Kato's 'whimsy' vanished with a swift fall of face. "You're right. There is no time left to make you understand: I saw your desk. Well. Casey said we would have to talk- let's talk."

Britt sagged against Kato's legs, "You saw my desk then you see how complicated this has become. That was you, Kato: you tangled it all up into a messy ball of thread. Now I'm just trying to find the ends of those threads… If you'd only just TOLD me!"

"Following the threads were they lead will in fact get you absolutely no where…except to where I was trying to keep you from. I feel terrible enough as it is, okay? Don't throw it back in my face."

Britt crowded in, cornering Kato into his cushion, delicately murderous frustration painted across his speech, "When someone tries to kill my best friend, I make it a **_point_** to follow it to the end. Where ever it goes. Nobody revokes that right from me. Not even you. **_Especially you._** Not to mention: how is it going to look if the Green Hornet lets some new player whip his partner in a fight, and DOESN'T respond?!"

 ** _"_** Anytime you're ready to stop playing the wounded hero-."

"I had to hear it from Charlie Rose! I had to hear from a man I haven't seen or talked to in years that you, somebody I grew up with, somebody I trusted… counted on, loved like a brother-." The flame of righteousness blew out, grounding his belligerence without even a sigh of defeat.

Kato blinked, waiting for some personal space to maneuver with, which Britt weakly supplied on his retreat off the couch. "All the sordid details wrapped in gauzy deception…it's that your father kept such a huge anvil over your head without you even realizing it that's hurting you the most."

"Bullshit." The broad footballer shoulders shagged further despite himself. "That's a hell of bag of bricks to hit me with… If only you'd just told me… ! If Dad had just trusted me…!"

"You know he trusted you. This was something entirely different and new and dangerous… But just so we're straight now, I will tell you. Everything: if you'll drop it."

Britt ogled him, "I don't make **_deals_**. And I can't ignore what's wrong and right in front of me. You know better than that—or I thought you did…"

"Do you want to hear the whole truth or not?"

"I'm not dropping this!"

"No, but when you are dead, you'll have to."

"What, you think you're immune or something?"

Kato reared up on his cushions, "You forget, it is my duty."

"The blood oath? Goddamn it, if there was a way to revoke it-!"

Just as with Kato's crass reduction of Casey's worst fears come true, the pall of Britt's ruthless undercutting of their very foundation throttled him, split him up the gut as Britt had all those years earlier when their class and race become a line in the sand to draw at his leisure.

"You do not revoke a blood oath." His voice was an icicle, "You carry it out. THAT! Is how you end it! It is not a convenience; it is not a scrap one throws away!"

"—I didn't mean it that way-."

Panicked anxiety unraveled about them.

"-Perhaps you are tired by the idea of someone wanting to die for you."

"-Jesus, what the fu-!"

"-Maybe you are outgrowing the partnership? Maybe…seeing how much you actually need me put a dampener on the whole vigilante idea after all!"

Shot aimed, trigger pulled.

"Seeing how much we need EACH OTHER…yeah," Britt confronted him, a bundle of wrecked angry nerves, vibrating under the strain, his image of cool gone. "Yeah, that dampened a few things in my mind. And as I sat at your bedside two nights ago, wondering when you'll succumb to another nightmare and IF that one will tear a stitch or two so you can bleed to death…examining every little detail of the last few days over and over, beating myself up with HAD I DONE THIS or HAD I DONE THAT." His face contorted under the compression of enunciation, "All I wanted to know was WHY. WHY didn't you just TELL ME. All these years, all the gaps in your history never truly bothered me…until now, and look at what they accomplished: almost left you alone is some Chinatown relic, bleeding out across the tiles while a madman decides how to play God next!

"Jesus Christ, how-how do you expect me to live with that? I'm owed that much-but, then, then…!" The words tumbled out faster, accompanied by wild gesturing as Britt acted out the night's progress in mediation, "I realized I couldn't ask that, couldn't say I was owed, because that blood oath we took bound you away from doing so. You're duty bound to protect me, and no matter how many other promises and oaths and vows we've taken over the years, that one alone…holds the greatest power over us. Damnit, you couldn't even tell me about your CHILDHOOD, for God's sake! Because of that Blood Oath! Because you thought it would hurt me. That's when I realized what I had to do. It was obvious. Not right away, not when, you know, you're not sleeping…or eating…or thinking of anything else but the life in the bed before you!" His rage mounted, "But, nevertheless, I figured it out: since I already had your blood on my hands, literally and figuratively, I was going to make another Blood Oath."

Kato withstood him up until this point, accepting. But now, "No, Britt, that is NOT-!"

Britt again aggressively approached him, grabbing his hands, holding on for dear life: because this oath was going to give and maintain life, as it was intended. "From this day on, Kato." He vowed with vengeance, "From this day on I am on a Blood Oath to protect you. Lasting until my death or your death, whichever comes first. Unbreakable **_except_** by death. …When I said revoke before I didn't mean 'get rid of'. I meant 'fix it'. And that's what I've done."

He all but threw Kato's hands back at him, marching over to his dry bar to messily pour a drink. Sunlight splashed across his back, the gritty tips of his hair sticking up like a black haystack. It blinded Kato to his face but he knew well the consuming rage he'd find there. "You know what you've done?" He calmly asked into the pool of golden light.

"Exactly." The outline slugged down his glass.

"Incredibly stupid. And done in poor taste."

"Oh. Sorry," Sounding the complete opposite. Glass clinked bar top, "I was supposed to ask if you accepted."

"I don't."

He chuckled darkly, refusing the rebuttal, "Like hell you don't."

" ** _I don't_**."

A deep suffering sigh, "Better get used to it."

"You're trivializing it!"

"No," he turned, "No, actually I'm not. See, caring enough about someone to want to die for them?" He scrunched his face in faux contemplation, pausing for a beat, then, "Doesn't really sound trivial to me."

_Touché._

An electrifying silence spread its tingly wings.

Simmering tension doused suddenly.

The heat lines of the sun replaced the heat lines of confrontation.

"No wonder you sent Casey out." Kato finally spoke up.

"For her own good." A quirky, twisty grin graced him. "She's had to go to Frank's office so we can start legal proceedings against Lao Yin's company. She also went to get food from the Golden Lotus."

Kato paled, recognizing implied motive. Britt sighed deeply, returning to the couch. "She should be gone for an hour—I told her to take her time, she knew what I meant. Think you could tell me the whole story in that time?"

He plucked at his robe belt, arranging the covering just so. A hand went to his side and remained there, pressed against the pain. "I shall try."

* * *

The first half of his life story took half of the hour, bringing Britt up to real speed on what Jimmy Kee had bequeathed to him at the welcome home party. He segwayed from there to retelling the life of a boy growing up without a father and then orphaned completely at a bleakly young age. Of trying to find his place on the streets, of going down an exceptionally short path to ruin…if Yip Man hadn't literally stepped in the middle of his destitution to save him.

A particularly outnumbered street brawl against the son and bodyguards of the most powerful Tong man resulting in several broken bodies and street vendors' carts but a resounding victory for young Hayashi Kato led a curious, determined Yip Man to pluck this rascal out of the alleys of Hong Kong.

They forged an immediate if initially rocky relationship on honor, duty, loyalty and wing chun. Kato wanted to wade through life his way, with just his fists and cunning. It was hard to break these ways which had proven themselves thus far, hard to listen to a seemingly wizened old man preach the way of Tao and put down his ways of violence. But it was exceptionally easy to mold his raw viscosity and talent with the purity and peace of wing chun: they were yin and yang, balance for the sake of balance.

The second half of the story slowed as Kato struggled to properly describe the amount of gracious gratitude and affection he owed Yip Man…only to pay him back with disobedience and stridently wrong-minded pride. He took everything Man had given him and twisted it, not in malice but out of infectious willfulness.

Wing Chun saved him. Yip Man saved him. He could not save himself. The way of the Tao and the way of the streets came together in one magnificently capable package: he created a martial art from every shred of combat style he could find and glean, molding as Wing Chun and Tao had done for him into viciously well-ordered machine.

"I will not give it a name, never have. I dislike labels. They are too clean and rigid. I only say that it is a way of limits without limitation, a way of no way. It just…is."

He embraced his well-ordered machine and mind, and took to the streets once more—secretly, at night, to return before morning and go on as before. Always positive his master never knew.

"But of course he did. He knew. He knew everything. One day, he sat me down in meditation. We were quiet for an hour before I felt an envelope slide into my hand. Bore the three tiger claw mark of Han…power and danger mixed together like one of his potent narcotics. It was an invitation to his yearly dâ zhàng tournament. A blood bath, my master called it. Even as he forbade it to me as much as to he had his other students, mine carried something…extra.

"It was then he told he knew of my creation, my accomplishment. He praised me, my apparent rise above the mere physical skill level to the spiritual level; ask me several questions on the applications of Tao and mind and spirit in my way, which I readily answered. Such questions I was accustomed to, a regular practice between us. We were quiet again. The envelope remained in my hands… how I _ **burned**_ to rip it open!

" Shīfu… sensed that…but didn't speak on it; he only asked that I might come to him nightly now so he may put my understandings to paper. As any prospective shīfu would his knowledge. Nightly…a key word, so I would know he was wise to my activities. I should have been chastised, chagrined…and I was, for the briefest moment, but putting my Way into solid standing, my own creation! The hubris I refused to abandon coiled tightly in my heart—yes, I would obey, and when I was done with that, I would prove to him and the gung fu world my way was the best Way: I would go to Han's tournament."

Kato coughed dryly, prompting Britt to bring him a cup of his favorite tea. He savored the sweetness. "Time's almost up."

"…if Casey comes back before you're done, it's okay."

He flexed his wounded hand, wincing at the pull of stitch, that ache summoning the emotions and memories necessary to carry on. "I am not sure I wish her to hear this."

Falling hard for the gut feeling the end was even worse than Charlie Rose made it out to be, "She can handle it."

"I'm not questioning that. However…once said… none of it can ever be taken back."

Britt's gaze roamed over him, naked turmoil radiating. "It's been 14 years. Let **_us_** carry it too."

An expressive show of agony, clutching his mug as if to break it, before downing the contents; smacking his lips. "Very well." The mug set aside, his robe loosened with chest exposed; he was sweating now, feverish equally from illness and forebodingness.

He carefully recounted the months running up to the tournament, increasingly lulled by the excitement and glamour of recognition in being invited to the most infamous underground fight yard; of wondering why if his Master truly know and understand the pull did he not take the envelope back, of feeling as though he was standing at an abyss: on one ledge the obedience his Master strove to indict in him, that he strove to follow, and the other edge:

"Power."

By tournament time, his manifesto of knowledge remained incomplete. His Master was unconcerned, of course. Kato knew better. The morning before, he prayed his Master would come and hold him in his room, locking him away from the temptation. Instead, Man canceled all classes for a day of rest and meditation.

Leaving him free.

"I ran. Seeing other fellow students who'd been invited as well running in the same direction; we found passage together to Han's private island. For boys from the middle of the streets Hong Kong, the boat ride out was a thrilling appetizer."

Han's palatial island estate was a den of sin and vice: sex, drugs, and violence. He understood this was wrong and evil, but the lavish lasciviousness was too strong. He was welcomed like conquering hero, as was every other attendee, but for a budding ego pining for some stroking, Kato succumbed quickly. A sumptuous dinner welcomed them into Han's domain, the man himself presiding like the god he fancied himself to be. A squat but solidly built Chinese with shark eyes and a prosthetic left hand perpetually hidden under a black glove, he made it clear none of this would be possible without him. Everyone had to know that before the games began the next day, and everyone did, especially after dinner, when he personally sent each contestant his pick of female entertainment for the evening.

"I was sixteen. Sixteen years old." He emphasized with prophetic profoundness. Overwhelmed to say the least, he didn't partake but did still picked a single girl out of his offerings, roughly his his age, to talk to, pretending, of course, he was going to be doing anything but talking.

"I need to have the lay of the land…pardon my choice of words." He blushed briefly, "I had to know what I was up against. If…the rumors were true."

Anyone who lived the Hong Kong dâ zhàng lifestyle knew what it meant to be invited to Han's tournament, knew his tournament was infamous for a reason. A deadly reason.

"Dâ zhàng are either til first blood, in which honor is satisfied, or til the death. Spectators and handlers bet on the outcome. Han's was to the death, and he alone was judge and executioner. The final arena of battle was _jìngzi de fángjiān,_ the Room of Mirrors, a funhouse made entirely out of mirrored panels. No one ever survived that room. No one. A 'champion' was always named in the end but it was a dummy good-will gesture—maintain his reputation as the **_supreme patron of gung fu, benevolent and generous._** " Kato spat, lips curling in a foul sneer. The pinched expression softened to a sickly grimace. He rubbed his tired eyes, his prickly five 'o'clock shadow. His chest and face glistened. Concerned, Britt poured more tea. "Can you continue?"

Kato accepted the tea. "I'm nearly done." he replied hoarsely.

With the tea he appeared balked up. Until Casey's spare key was in the door, hushed whispers preceding footsteps. She and Frank Scanlon tiptoed into the room, sending him reflexively to his feet far too quickly for his condition. Black spots blossomed before his eyes. He teetered, reaching out for the furniture for anchoring. Britt was immediately at his side, putting him down gently. "You can't do that." He was equally kind in his reminding.

Scanlon was sheepish, "Don't get up on my account." He rumbled. The new arrivals took their seats.

"I wanted Frank to hear this too, Kato. We might need some of it later on."

Kato agreed silently, his heart pounding in his ears from his near-miss collapse.

Suddenly he was at the pinnacle of his tale.

Suddenly they all would know. "Once this said, it can't be taken back." He warned again.

"We know, Kato." Casey looked between the other two for their nods. "We know.

He sighed, taking the three with him down a spiraling path of dark sadism no man, no matter how well-conditioned he was, could ever forget.

The tournament began in earnest the following day, whittling through the ranks of the invited to find those who epitomized their chosen style.

Except Kato.

Kato stood out with his Way of No Way.

"First mistake." He added ruefully.

Han was intrigued, alighting on this surly, stubborn street rat with the lightening hands and rib cracking kicks. "He knew my reputation, my record. He knew I was Shīfu Man's protégé. Second mistake." The man's obsession with Kato and his arrogance grew measurably from one day to the next. On the third day of the tournament: "Chaos."

It was no longer about finding a worthy opponent for the Room of Mirrors, it was about breaking a man: Kato. "I had gotten under his skin because I was different; I wasn't cowed by his omnipotence. Nor would I yield to him: I stopped eating his food, I refused his women. Most of all, He wanted my skills, my knowledge, my Way, make them his own, and that wasn't going to happen."

In retaliation, Han halted tournament proceedings, still gathering the fighters in his massive yard to hold court over them. He picked the smallest of boys, a fellow student of Man's, to fight his behemoth son Bolo. "He was 6'5'' 250, easy. All muscle. But fast. Han knew I wouldn't stand for it, I'd fight back. He made me watch." Kato's jaw worked. "I lasted a whole minute, a lifetime for that poor kid, before I decided…I would kill Bolo."

He described his rendering of Bolo in concrete details, sparing none, keeping in mind they wanted all the grisly details anyway. He flicked one finger up, eyes dead and black. "One kick. I killed him with one kick."

Body count: 1, and Casey was only slightly green, Scanlon right behind her.

Enraged, Han sent in his favored American agent, O'Hara, a tall ruggedly built Irishman, to finish it. "Had a scar running here to here," drawing a finger from the corner of his eye down his cheek to the curve of his chin. "Got it when he tried to kidnap and rape the sister of an accomplished gung fu man named Lee. She left him a lasting reminder before he killed her: we all knew that story. I also knew he favored Karate…and that he had a volatile temper that left him open." His shrug was simple and erudite. "Eventually he went down. I crushed his skull under my feet."

Body count: 2, and Britt was looking away. Casey covered her mouth. Scanlon took to stripping his suit coat and tie, sweating with him.

Body Count number three left him untethered against the deluge. He closed his eyes, shutting out the present to embrace the past; visualizing, smelling, feeling, **_living_** the end:

_Hayashi Kato faces Han in the fightyard, the divide between them widening as the fighters move to stand behind him, and Han's security forces behind their master._

_Silence. Blood spreads out in a ghastly halo around O'Hara._

_Han trembles in his unspeakable fury. Kato peers imperiously down his nose at the dais._

_The chasm ruptures. The opposing sides rip the courtyard and each other to shreds._

_But it is only Kato and Han. They have lost the context of everything else, seeing red instead of black and white clarity._

_Cutting, dodging through the mass of bodies, Han comes out ahead in the chase, running through his mansion with his enemy at his heels. He hides in his impressive museum room of weaponry. Kato pulls up short and hard, cautious, aware this is not the room to be caught off-guard in._

_His senses cycle into heighten awareness, a panther prowling for its prey corner to corner, display to display. From behind a blade rack, Han leaps with a hoplite spear in hand. Kato accepts the attack. It is dealt with cruel efficiency._

_Han launches the splintered spear head at Kato's heart. He deflects, takes up the offensive. He's bodily assaulted by the rank stench of fear and rage mingling in Han's sweat as they tangle._

_Glass display shatters under the heavier man's punch, retrieving a three-steel clawed attachment for his prosthetic hand. Armed and spitting in his manic state of rage, he forces Kato back with slashes across the face: both cheeks, three deep gauges ._

_Han vanishes._

_His path, meanwhile, is well marked by blood droplets and a half-revolved false wall._

_The Room of Mirrors revealed._

_Kato stalks the first glistening corridor, bare chest prickling with the chilly drop in temperature. Bare feet pad heel to toe, maintaining en garde. His reflection flushes down the length of the panels, disorientating and confusing._

_Two panels crack and rain shards. Han delivers two more raking wounds, one on each pectoral. Unfazed, Kato attacks. Loses him again.  
_

_Han reappears mid-air for a flying side kick. Kato shatters two more panels with his upending, shredding his back. 4 down, 7996 to go…*_

_On his feet once more. Han's laughter and footsteps echo. Likenesses of his crazed visage dance but they're literally smoke-in-mirrors._

_"_ Zhǎo wǒ _! Find me!"_

_Han is in front of him, drawing back his claw to strike. Kato strikes harder. 6 panels down._

"Jiē lǎoshǔ! Húndàn! Wǒ huì sī liè nǐ de xīnzàngle, chī tā, ér tā réngrán tiàodòng! _Street rat! Bastard! I'll tear your heart out and EAT IT while it still beats!" The threats spew in a shower of spittle and watery phlegm. Kato ignores him, unleashing his Way for a round of victorious blows._

_9 panels down. Han resembles a piece of butchered meat. But he still fights on, using his condition to his advantage: strike fear and uncertainty._

_Claw gashes abs open. The sting does something for Kato. He pauses, wipes a gash with a fingertip…and tastes his own blood. Mania taints him._

_…_

_…_

_Tipping point. Both wounded, slipping in their blood, streaking the glass. Kato is tired, each step, each punch, each kick, each grappling hold sucks at his reserves. Fatigue is never a good sign, especially on him._

_Either he ends it now, or Han ends him. Silence._

_Only…Maybe, Kato tilts his head, maybe the blood loss is finally getting to him. He swears he hears his Master's voice: "Now, you must remember: the enemy has only images and illusions behind which he hides his true motives. Destroy the image and you will break the enemy."*_

_"_ _Shīfu?" Kato jerks his whole body in the search for the source._

_In his mind, of course._

_Shīfu was always with him there, and in his heart. He smiles. "The glass…" A whispered epiphany. So many panels still unbroken. And no sign of Han. Yelling, nothing left to lose, springing to his feet, preparing himself. "_ Nǐ de jìng jiān pùbù, hàn! Tā sǐ nǐ! _Your Room of Mirrors falls, Han! It dies with you!"_

_His feet and fists shatter every panel in his vicinity. The crash of glass is thunderous. He can't even hear Han screaming. Fueled by bloodlust and blood loss, Kato is a spinning top loose in a china shop._

_…_

_…_

_End._

_…_

_…_

_His heart beats too hard and too fast, bent on giving its fuel except to have it drained away. It demands he stops_. _He falls to his knees, allowing mind and heart to agree. Vision returns, crystalline and in shades of scarlet._

_His masterpiece hangs on the revolving wall they came through, still turning on its pins._

_Han, or what is left of him._

_Impaled by his three-clawed hand. Right through the heart._

_Kato's chest heaves, hands shakily tracing the wounds he can reach. He whimpers._

_No time. He bites the whimper in half, clenches hands. Must go._

_"_ _Walk!" He urges wobbly legs. "Walk on!"*_

Time blurred together, the stiff ache permeating his body the glue. Only Britt's hands on his shoulders, urgently calling him to snap out of it, broke the hold. His robe was off, over the couch back. Sweat beads ran down his body, dampening bandages. Ears were ringing, hands in spasm. He wrapped them around Britt's forearms for released relief. "I'm okay."

But they're not. That's obvious. All three were an extremely whiter shade of pale.

"I warned you." He sighed breathily after Britt moved away to pour drinks. "I warned, once this is said, it cannot be taken back."

Casey cleared her throat, discreetly wiping at her eyeliner. Scanlon paced, down to his dress shirt. He chewed on his glasses like he could really use a smoke.

"I killed three men in one day: all very bloody and very final ends. Now you know my deepest darkest secrets; why I do many of the things that I do."

"Why the Green Hornet doesn't kill." Britt asserted, returning to hand off of a stiff one to him. To Casey and Scanlon, handing an alcoholic boost to Kato was akin to sacrilege, but he knew Kato better. Experience told him his partner chose not to imbibe, until he did. _And why you made me promise never to go down that path myself._ His thought wordlessly translated between the two.

"Yes."

They stared off in various points of space, holding their drinks without sipping.

"I don't know how much Charlie told you. I managed to make it home to my Master. I rowed for hours from the island, crawled my way back when I landed ashore. …There was a bright moon that night." He mused. "Small favors. …Other fighters found their way out too, but not many survived. At some point after my escape, the mansion was set ablaze. The smoke was visible from land. Between witness accounts and the black smoke arising from a dot on the horizon, the authorities couldn't deny Han and his empire any longer. The dâ zhàng collapsed.

"Shīfu realized then I was no longer safe in Hong Kong, that remnants of Han's forces would come for me. I had to get out, but I was too sick to be moved. The Daily Sentinel's reputation for trust and just treatment is well known around the world, especially in China, where such sterling ideals are less than usual. He contacted Charlie Rose, then chief editor of the Eastern office, and told him he had the boy who'd killed Han. The Sentinel could have the entire story if Rose swore to keep my name and the name of my shīfu out it, and to find a way to smuggle me out of Hong Kong."

Kato swished his drink, the amber liquid sloshing in tiny waves up the sides. His voice returned, husky, "I had no wish to leave. I would have gladly died defending my shīfu had Han's men come. But as always, my Master saw the whole picture when I refused to." He met the gaze of the brother he would never have known, "What I owe your father can never be repaid. He granted me a second chance, life and freedom. Family. And of course, the story was never published. So you see, the things I do today…they all harken back to the hour your father took my hand," Kato faltered, bowing his head to hide welling tears, "He took my hand," he tried again, voice cracking, "And said to me, "Son. You stick with me and I'll make sure you come out alright."

He laughed absurdly, " 'Come out alright'… Yeah…" He raised his glass, gulped it back. Casey's heart broke, tsking as she went to give Kato a firm hug. He protested weakly her attentions.

"Why the secret then?" Britt asked from his chair. "Why couldn't I know?"

"It was part of the plan. We couldn't be sure how organized Han's forces were in his death. We knew America was the safest option, with the strongest laws and legalities, but we weren't sure if it was far enough away. I was sworn to secrecy on my past and could not display any kung fu skills in public. You could not know because…" He was troubled, even embarrassed, to continue, "Well, at the time, uhm, you were…"

The train of thought struck Britt and he grasped it fully, bitterly, "Oh. Yeah. Less than trustworthy."

"Any wind of my true nature to any one wrong person could have proved awkward, to say the least, for your father." Kato attempted to be conciliatory. "In a drunken state you could have easily…"

"Yeah."

"It was also for your safety." He added more succinctly. "That way you couldn't be used against me if we were found out."

Britt's sour disposition sweetened to a more understanding one. "Protecting me even then…Another question?" Kato gestured to proceed. "So what you use as the Green Hornet's companion, what you taught me? It's not wing chun…it's-?"

"No, it's wing chun. I use wing chun because, well, to be honest, the caliber of foe we encounter is certainly below what I was used to in Hong Kong. See, I created my Way because in the streets, one quickly learns that using one form or style is a ball and chain, or should. They're ornaments, not keys. There is no **_flow._** My way is fighting without fighting. It's about seeing the fight as one would water: water can flow or it can crash. Fill a tea cup, it takes the shape of the tea cup. Fill a vase, it takes the shape of the vase. Punch a basinful of water, the surface does not break, but gives and flows on. Be water!* That was my philosophy." He shifted in his seat, loathed the recall the moments of aftermath as much as the event itself, but, "It's not something you lose. I will always have it in here and here." Pointing to his head and heart. "It is essentially me, who I am as a man and a martial artist. …But." He conceded slowly, "After Han, I…rejected it. I had killed with it. So, I couldn't bear to bring myself to even think in terms of anything but wing chun: sometimes, routine is better and safer." He shrugged sadly.

Except that was a lie. He had used his Way, just once. With-

Kato's stomach heaved abruptly. He was off the couch and rushing to the bath room to be sick. Britt was right behind him, ordering the others to stay back to give him room. Fully purged, he slumped on the bathroom floor, resting his neck against the cool, porcelain tub surround. Faintly pink splotches spread across the bottom layers of bandages. His vomiting had obviously done damage. Britt loomed in the doorway, blocking the view. When shaky hands reached up to beckon for a washcloth, Britt took the invitation to come closer. He knelt beside an increasingly blanched body, handing off the washcloth. The dripping wet cloth slid over clammy skin, ending up in between cracked lips.

Britt moved closer, fingers probing bandages. "Stitches are torn. Going to have to-."

Kato stilled his inspection with a single croaked command. "Leave it."

"You're bleeding again. I can't leave it-!"

"Britt…!" Whether a plea for obedience or a demand for silence, it worked. Britt stared, waiting, watching.

"Do you know why I lost?"

Not what he was expecting for the big reveal, Britt changed positions so he was sitting, shoulders touching in solidarity. "Why?" he asked, somewhat conversationally, softly leading. The feverish sheen covering Kato was making it difficult to keep his tone light.

"Because He was using it."

" 'He'. Black Dragon."

"He was using my Way. I recognized it immediately." His throat convulsed under heavy swallowing. Britt moved to assist him in case he was going to be sick again. "No. No, I'm not…". He blinked up at the ceiling as if it was an alien construction, "Cānglóng is Lo Sing." Britt went rigid beside him, leering with widening alarm over Kato's mental state. "Lo Sing is in prison." He reminded with overt tolerance. "Besides, that guy was twice the size of Lo Sing."

"It's him." Kato insisted restlessly. "When I fought Lo Sing…I used a knife hand to the lower torso, the liver, kidneys. He used the knife hand in the same position I did! He said to me, 'Remember this?' when he struck with the chakram!"

"He's in prison. Not even two years into his sentence-!"

Kato lolled his head about to Britt, dropping any shield or armor of reserve he had left, which wasn't much. The youthful vulnerability openly displayed for the first time in their history together cut Britt off with gaping shock.

"I never…got my manifesto from my master before I left." He struggled to speak, vocal cords torched. The splotches spread faster. Britt took hold his wrist as he'd done two nights before, heart meeting stomach with aching pressure. Pulse was too fast.

"I assumed he kept it. Now he's missing. And Lo Sing, I know it's him…he's using my Way. I recognized it immediately. No one else knew of it but me…and my Master. Do you understand what I am saying?" His desperation cut deep. Britt nodded fiercely. "I do, Kato…I do. But you need rest. And food. I'm getting you back to bed-."

"We have to stop him!"

"Alright! Yes, we will." Britt tried for calm but Kato was worked up now and hurrying to stand when he had no business doing anything but staying down. Britt beat him to it, tenderly lifting Kato on his feet. They held on in a side arm embrace in a walking-drag to the couch. Casey and Scanlon hovered. Food from the Golden Lotus had evidently arrived while the two had been in the bathroom, hot and steamy.

"He's bleeding again!"

"He was sick, vomiting pulled the stitches loose."

Kato grunted as Britt carefully situated him on the cushions, tucking the robe and blankets around his back while leaving his stomach uncovered. "There's…extra bandages and supplies in the bathroom, hidden under our towels. Casey?"

She nodded, going to retrieve them. Between the violence of Kato's story, the food's aromas and the stickiness of Kato's conditions, Frank looked about ready to puke himself, but he maintained a shivering resolve. They stared at each other: Britt kneeling beside Kato, Scanlon over them with perspiring hands on his hips.

"What you think, Frank?"

"…I think we've just opened a huge nasty can of worms."

"That's about to get a whole lot nastier. Can you do me a favor?"

Scanlon fired a frantic look at the bloody bandages and Casey coming back with the supplies. Britt was grim, "Not that again. I promise. No, I need you to check the state penitentiary records regarding Lo Sing. I want to know if he's been released."

Scanlon was relieved to be talking business, quickly fixing his shirt and sliding his tie from around his neck. "He wouldn't have been. He was only two years into a twenty year sentence."

"I know…but, humor me?"

Talking and dressing at the same time, "Sure. I'll check. Get back to you. You're going to talk to Jimmy still?"

"Yes, when I'm done here."

"Alright. Mind if I-?" He motioned towards the kitchen where the food was.

"Go ahead. Don't eat it here, though. Last thing I want to clean up is-."

Scanlon halted him right there with a sharply scholarly glower. Britt held his hands up, "Just sayin', just sayin'."

The apartment lost some of its sunniness as bandages were cut off to reveal new damage. Casey's reaction was stronger than and twice as averse as the last time she mopped up blood and tissue. "Go, Casey. I'll take care of it."

"No, I'm-"

"Stop pretending you can't be squeamish…" The patient slurred under a crooked grin. Still hesitating, torn. Britt brushed the top of her head with his chin affectionately, "Go."

Acquiescing with a sigh, she gripped his bicep, "Call me?"

"Of course."

Between the two men, they'd wrung her emotions into a limp rag. She gratefully left.

"You're going to have to marry her when this is over with." Kato murmured sleepily.

Britt settled back on his haunches, rolling up his sleeves to prod torn flesh. "One crisis at a time…"

* * *

**_3:00 pm_ **

**_Wednesday_ **

**_May 8_ ** **_th_ ** **_, 1968_ **

**_Golden Lotus Café_ **

Late lunch traffic. Humanity's gastro economics. Sanctuary. Balmy sumptuous vapors wafted out from the restaurant, well a ways away. The cooks danced and chattered about the kitchen, the epicenter of their culinary magic.

Jimmy Kee took up a small half of a corner, sucking air like it was a luxury.

He couldn't do it today. He tried to be the gracious leader. He tried to put on a happy face.

The Green Hornet's stone cold eyes haunted him in every face he saw.

Under knife chops, the companion's blood, not the components to the tempura fusion soup, dropped.

In the calling of his name by every friend and customer, was the condescension of Lao Yin, coming for him, gunning for him.

"Jimmy?"

He started then cursed his nerves. "Mary! Darling…I did not see you come in."

Mary stood by him, ticking his chin up with a finger. Her concern was evident. "Uncle is taking care of your tables for you. He is wondering what became of you. But now that I see your face…are you sick?"

He ran his hands through his hair twice, limps strands prickling his forehead. "N-no. I…er-stressed, I supposed."

Mary was coy, "Not getting cold feet, are you?"

He gaped owlishly, unsure if he should laugh or cry and spill the gory details. Cold feet didn't even cover it…more like a walking corpse… "Cold feet? Wha-? No!" He suddenly laughed, pulling her into him, hold her tightly, "No, not cold feet, dear Mary. Never. Not now. But…" He leaned back to play with her jet black locks so coquettish draped over a single eye, "When I think of our vows, whatever comes our way, you will have to shoulder it too and I just what to be sure—"

"Be sure? What kind of talk is that?!" She flared, hands bunching smartly on her hips.

He kissed her, "Please, no. Listen. Be sure…be sure…"

_I can't tell her. I deserve her wrath for what I have done but…_

_"…_ be sure everything is in place, where it needs to, so we'll always be happy."

_And safe._

She softened, "Of course we'll be happy, you goose!"

"Well, I—I know, but situations can change. If it ever does, Mary…"

"This talk is silly! Come on, people are hungry."

She immediately turned in dismissal. Hand in hand, taking Jimmy with her. It offered a full back view of her body, her curves and cascading black waterfall of hair, her simply chosen blue dress and sensible flats. His heart melted with so much love, and a huge need to hold that love and make it pure and protected, that he twirled her back into him. She 'ooh!'-ed as she fell in. "Jimmy, really!"

He clutched her fiercely, tenderized emotions coalescing into a fire of fortitude that spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. "We're getting married in two days." he vowed throatily. "We're getting married, and we're going to be happy. And I'm going to love, honor, and defend you and our love in everything I do." _And against anyone who wishes otherwise. Anyone._

"What has gotten into you?" Mary kissed him brightly. "Whatever it is," she winked boldly, "Keep it up, tiger. Come on! Get going!". The touch of her lips on his was their seal. Invigorated and stout in this new-found courage and conviction, Jimmy settled on the balls of his feet, shoulders squared; head up and back, chest out.

Except when he was accosted the minute he stepped through the kitchen doors.

Then he jumped out of his skin, and swung.

Trays and silverware clattered to the floor when his momentum carried him into a cart of dirty dishes. Strong hands snatched his fall; hands that sent his blood pressure rocketing in panic.

"Wha-! Let me go -!" He cried, struggling like a marionette on dancing strings.

"—Jimmy, it's me! Britt Reid!"

He stiffened mid flop, actually taking a moment to look at his accoster. Pausing several hard beats for Jimmy to grasp the straws of recognition, Reid raised both eyebrows in silent questioning whether the young man was good. He nodded jerkily.

A hasty check to either end of the corridor showed curious, if not suspicious, glares from fellow employees. Thankfully Mary and Uncle were not among them. Reid relaxed, "Alright. We're going." Jimmy heard but comprehension had to be jumpstarted. "G—g—going?" Reid latched on to his upper arm to yank him forward. "Yes. Going. My office. We have to talk."

His tone was so similar to the Green Hornet's last night he almost yelped. Reid must have known Jimmy had just been spooked further still, because the brief rearing of attitude was suppressed with leaping diplomacy, "I'm sorry… Jimmy. I didn't mean to scare you." He rephrased, "An urgent matter has come to my attention and I found I needed your help. Will you please accompany me to my office? It's a private secure location where we won't be disturbed."

If anything, Jimmy blanched deeper. His web of unintended consequence deciphered…. "Y-yes. I will come with you. But you must understand: I did what I thought I had to do. You believed me then, did you not? My intentions-!"

Reid's demeanor plummeted into unrelenting sobriety, "Yes." He graveled. "Yes, I—I believe you, Jimmy. And your intentions." He motioned briskly to the back door. "My car's parked around the side. I guessed you wouldn't want to alarm Mary or Uncle."

"Thank you." Jimmy exhaled, falling in behind Reid, leaving the cage of emotionally charged scents and promises of the Golden Lotus behind.

As Reid pulled out of the alley, merged with traffic after a quick one-two check of the street, Jimmy made it a point to look back upon his home and enterprise. A remote yet creeping eau of farewell, as though he'd never see it again or at least see it as it was now ever again, nipped at him. The phantom premonition was frightening. He seared the retreating sight into his mind's eye, until it felt criminal to look longer.

"You okay, Jimmy?" Astute as ever, Reid was reading his disjointedness. He only nodded, refusing to put to voice his chilling thoughts: _Nothing will ever be the same after this day. Nothing_ ** _could_** _remain._

* * *

_**3:30 pm** _

_**Wednesday** _

_**May 8** _ _**th** _ _**, 1968** _

_**Daily Sentinel** _

Jimmy Kee had never stepped inside the Daily Sentinel, rarely drove past it either. The great glistening skyscraper of windows chrome and concrete sucked the eyes alllll the way up for an equally great crick in the neck. He gaped, indeed craning to accept the modern grandeur. To be escorted through the sweeping revolving front door by the very owner of this structural masterpiece made it seem transitional, leaving one life, entering another. It probably was, the way Reid stalked through his domain, eliciting wide-eyes, barely mouthed greetings and hushed googly-eyed stares on his passing without so much a wave hello or greeting otherwise. Here was a man on a mission, who'd usually give his people the time of day…if things weren't so apparently cock-eyed.

The elevators doors dinged closed behind them. The attendant received a tight lipped order for the top floor. "All the way up?" Jimmy confirmed reflexively, pale but breathing normally at least. Reid looked his way, eyes alive in a face of stone, "All the way up."

_He looks like the Green Hornet…_

… _Just my nerves, my imagination. Like at the Golden Lotus_

The elevator boy announced the floor, the doors swept open and…

"Wow."

Reid took from the cabin like a shot, leaving Jimmy to his wonderment. Except he had to catch up and so…

At the desk cubicle nearest the main office, Jimmy recognized Mike Axford, from the Duke Slate affair. The sparse red hair was sparser, the coat more rumpled, his face as flushed as a tomato.

He was agitated. Evidently the sight of Mr. Reid whisking past without even a second look was the trigger to send him reeling into firecracker territory. Jimmy rushed to be closer to Reid, not out of want of protection but as a breaker against the storm swirling in the older man's approach. Reid saw it too and wheeled about to haul Axford through the outer office for the Secretary so the storm could blow behind two closed doors…

Jimmy took up at the door to watch, feeling invisible, which right now was fine by him.

"Not now, Mike."

"Not-! Holy Crow! Don't get behind that desk of yours and pretend you're the boss, Britt Reid! You haven't been here for days! You let stories go through your fingers like your father's fortune! You don't _**deserve**_ that desk!"

It was immense effort to remain civil on Reid's end, but he managed it and Jimmy applauded him for it. "Mike…I am going to pretend you didn't go there. I'm going to pretend you entered my office civilly and acted like a human being. Not-."

Jimmy waited for the crusher. Mike, with his puffer-fish faced expression, did too. Instead the higher road was taken,"Go back to your desk, Mike. Jimmy Kee and I have things to discuss." Axford lurched a beady glare at Jimmy, seemingly noticing him for the first time. "When I want you, _**if**_ I want you, I'll call you."

Axford puckered, miming out his frustration in multiple raising and lowering of his fists until he let out a big "BAHH" to storm out of the office. The glass door panels were still shaking moments later when Jimmy was beckoned into a seat. Reid slid back in his command chair, a curled knuckle resting on his lips in rumination.

_He looks exhausted. Deeply troubled—in trouble? Oh no—The Green Hornet must blame him too!_

"It is the Green Hornet…isn't it?"

No movement of expression, not even a flicker. Jimmy raked his scalp anxiously, "Is he…threatening you?"

Still no registration.

"Mr—Mr. Reid, if—if you want a, a confession, or a statement, I-." His floundering finally did something for the publisher, because Reid slowly pitched forward, hands folding before him. "I want to set the record straight, Jimmy. On many things. Because your life…could very well depend on it."

"…my—my life?..."

"I just want you to sit there and listen to what I have to say. When I'm through, then you can speak. Deal?"

Vehement nodding signaled 'deal'.

"First of all, I know everything. Not…just about what's happening here with the Black Dragon and Lao Yin. I mean about Kato and the dâ zhàng. I know the whole story now. Meaning I didn't before, and I'm not very happy about that. Seems a lot of this could have been headed off if I had…"

He paused, knitting his brow at some memory this admission jogged for him. "Anyway. What I didn't know before this," he emphasized by drawing the last word out, "was the information you shared with Kato the night of your welcome home party. About his Master, or the new dâ zhàng under Lao Yin and the Black Dragon. Or what you suggested to do about it _ **. I didn't know, Jimmy. Kato never told me."**_

The meaning forced its way into Jimmy's brain unpleasantly, and his body language proved it.

"Kato went behind my back to the Green Hornet; personally whatever connection we have I don't acknowledge, in fact it's my civic duty to try and apprehend him. What Kato did, I can't condone and won't."

"…he—he told me…!"

Reid motioned for silence.

…

"Now there's word on the streets something happened to the Hornet's companion, that he was injured and lost whatever fight he picked with Lao Yin and the Black Dragon…I can't discuss that right now… However, we do have to talk about you, and your position in this."

The front desk rang in right on cue, alerting to the arrival of the District Attorney, Frank Scanlon. Which did not bode well in Jimmy's eye, "D—d—istrct…attorney…?"

Moments later, Scanlon briskly entered the outer office, then the main office, nodding and quickly muttering his hellos. Jimmy thought the man, though he met him only once before, looked older than just the two years in passing. But then, he dealt with things most would rather just ignore.

_Like…what I have done…_

"Jimmy, you've met our district attorney, Frank Scanlon."

"Mr. Scanlon."

"Jimmy."

"How much trouble am I in?"

Scanlon deposited his briefcase on Reid's desk, opening the contents for him. "In a word…none. You are, however, in danger. Extreme danger." Scanlon proceeded to lower himself in a seat with thoughtful intent, plucking at his glass to clean the smudges.

"From what we've gleaned from yours and Kato's stories, Lao Yin is the money, face, and brains behind these operations, using his construction businesses as fronts to pave the way, quite literally, for his strongholds. As the masters of the old dâ zhàng did. He has his operations metted out to others like him in Hong Kong and China, the powerful men you saw in the meetings. And…the pictures we've taken with him here, with certain _**respectable**_ officials…same thing. This…Black Dragon character is the lynch pin to hold the entire mythos together, without him…the money and plans are there but no action to push on with. Much like Han's Room of Mirrors."

The glasses slid over a stern rebuke, "If you know anything else, Jimmy…"

Fierce affirmation of the negative, "I don't know. I don't. I only overheard as much as I've said. I swear! When I told Kato I wasn't sure of the dates for the fights, that meant I knew nothing of their numbers or strengths too. And I only saw Cānglóng and Lao Yin going into the Buddhist temple that night!"

The scrutiny intensified as if to sniff out anything untowards in the denials. Jimmy saw it and redoubled, "Look…I do not know! …But."

Now it was an expectant glare, with Reid slumping in his seat in dejection.

"No, please. Do not take this the wrong way." Jimmy licked his lips hastily. "It's just that… I did not make the connection before now. …When, when I was in Hong Kong for my studies, after Lao Yin took me in, he did give me a tour of his work sites, and there were a lot workman about them."

They weren't getting it.

"Uhm…you know, more than necessary, uh," he gestured vaguely, "Milling about. Talking, eating, smoking. Rough looking characters."

"Types who might…fight?"

"I am only familiar with the gung fu I see here, mainly with Kato's wing chun. I don't know types or-."

"-Did they remind you of Lo Sing?" Reid intercut wanly. Jimmy's entire being caved in, folding upon itself like origami on the mention of the single most unforgettable of his past . "Yes," he admitted in a small voice. "Yes they did."

"That's all I wanted to know. Tell him."

Jimmy prickled, curiosity working to unfold the mental kinks. Scanlon hummed in agreement, "Alright. But, Jimmy, you should have told us that along with everything else. No more secrets and halftruths, or you _**will**_ be in trouble, _**or dead**_ , depending."

The DA took a handful of records from his briefcase's piles to hold up in evidence of what he was about to reveal, "These are work permit records for Lao Yin's company, starting when you were approached by him until now, transnationally, from Hong Kong to Century City."

Jimmy eyeballed the handful, understanding dawning.

"A proverbial flood of migrant worker visas. He's got a nice traffic flow of some of the nastiest, hardest criminals the East has to offer. I think it _**is**_ safe to say his work sites are the source."

He shrugged shyly, "Well, if…you know that, why me…and why aren't you stopping him?"

"We have to have more than circumstantial evidence to get a court ordered injunction against Lao Yin. All these prove is that he's using cheap imported labor. The hear-say from the Far East Office of the Daily Sentinel of his alleged connection the homegrown dâ zhàng isn't enough." Reid explained.

"So…we're going to push a little to see what he'll give," Scanlon mused, giving Reid a pleased look, "Using the Daily Sentinel. We'll turn the intended Construction racket expose from its half-truth state into something the public _**can't**_ ignore: the real truth."

"Power of the Press." Reid grinned joylessly.

"But there lies the danger for you and your family. Whatever happened between the Hornet's Companion and the Black Dragon…only a privileged source could have put the duo on the scent. Now, I don't condone the Green Hornet…I'll arrest him the moment he gives me the chance." Scanlon added, "But in his own way of course, he does his good turns, so I'm thanking the source for keeping the lesser of two evils in check: I'm thanking you, Jimmy. The only person who had any contact, however remote, with their home network; who recently returned a hero; who has a well-established connection to our Green Hornet, the very person who saved this community two years earlier and is still held in high regard for it, no matter what else he does. And don't think Lao Yin or his Black Dragon don't know all this either."

Jimmy hugged himself despondently, "I know." he whispered in a high pitch whine. "I know it…I knew it the moment…the moment the Green Hornet called me and asked me for the Three Brothers; when I saw his Companion mangled and bloodied…!"

Scanlon did a fair job of shocked disapproval. The sidelong glance of underlying fidelity between him and Reid went unnoticed by the rocking, shuddering figure in the chair before them. "I see…well, maybe you _**are**_ in trouble then, Jimmy…"

That sent him reeling and wheeling, eyes bulging, hands wrung in pleading, "No! Please, it was my fault, yes, but I owed them that much1 I would not have their blood on my hands! Lock me up if you must, but…I would not have more blood on my hands!"

"Easy, Jimmy, easy." Scanlon cautioned in the midst of his turmoil. "…Since the Hornet and his companion are still at large, and I'm sure you all were carefully kept from knowing their true location…and since the Buddhist temple was already searched quite thoroughly with no signs of damage or struggle, I have no proof beyond a couple of uncorroborated eye witness accounts, if it ever got to that."

"I assume Mary and Uncle don't know any of this." Reid interjected to put the meeting back on track.

Jimmy gulped, wiping his eyes, pulling at his hair, "No."

"You should tell them."

" _ **I know I should**_. It's killing me. To look at her, and know we'll be married in two day with this hanging over us…"

"…And now we come to the meat of the issue." Scanlon grumbled, clearing his throat, fingering his tie. "I saw that you petitioned the city council and the mayor to allow the main thoroughfare of Chinatown to be closed off for your reception."

"Um," Jimmy stammered, unhinged by the leaping lines of questionings, "Y—yes, a uhm, blockparty. Everyone is invited. Mary and I wanted it that way."

"And that referendum went through. Along with the petitioning to be married on the Century Park Lake, flotilla and all."

"Mr. Scanlon, with all due respect, please…! Come to your point!"

"His point is, Jimmy, that such a wide open affair, with you and Mary as the centerpoint, would be a decisive opportunity for Lao Yin and the Black Dragon to strike. For your safety, I am holding back the edition containing our first salvo at them until after your wedding. However, it's still too perfect a shot to pass up." Reid sat forward, apologetic if not morose. "So…we're saying… move the reception…or cancel the entire wedding."

They should have had a feather to bowl Jimmy over with.

They didn't need it.

"Get him some water, Frank."

"…is he out?"

"Close to it. Bet he hasn't slept or eaten much since that night."

_harrumph_

Ooozing sardonicism, "I appreciate your candor. Water, Frank?"

"Going, going…"

…

…

"Here…Jimmy? It's Britt Reid, can you sit up for me?"

"Watch it…"

"Splash his face with it."

…

…

The world returned unto Jimmy Kee in a cloud burst. Coughing and sputtering included. First contact included the intuitive eyes of Britt Reid and the bushy bunched eyebrows of Frank Scanlon. An office setting…Daily Sentinel? Him, loose as an egg noddle, where he last remembered sitting. Only now he was dripping wet.

"Hey, you went out on us there…How do you feel?"

"Mmmmfine…Mr. Reid…thank you. I'm sorry…"

A firm comforting hand rested on his shoulder, "Don't apologize. What you've been through…it's understandable."

Spotting a water carafe, he motioned he'd like a glass. A towel was provided as well. They waited for the boy to compose himself. He spoke up several moments later, wobbly in voice. "I will tell Mary and Uncle tonight. " He met each of their faces in turn, a sudden rigidity in his carriage signaling his taking a stand, "But we're not postponing our wedding. We're not running anymore; _**I'm**_ …not running anymore. What Lo Sing did to us as a community nearly ripped our fabric of life apart at the seams. Cānglóng and Lao Yin won't succeed in doing the same. The Green Hornet and his companion started this fight for us, now we will finish it: _**together**_."

He could tell by their expressions they found this speech noble but naïve. And suicidal.

"Mr. Reid, Mr. Scanlon…you have become great friends and supporters of our community. I appreciate why you suggested such a course of action. I realize the danger, I realized it a long time ago. Watching it flower several nights ago so violently… _ **it has to stop!**_ Even if the cost is greater than the sum of all our lives. …However, for the sake of Mary, for the women and the children…"

His voice trailed off on Scanlon's nod of approval. "I can offer protection, of course. Increased police presence in and around your party: discretely."

Jimmy was surprised but warmed by the respect the magnate projected at him. "Is this what you want, Jimmy?"

"It is what is necessary."

Begrudging acceptance tinged a scoffing grunt, "Between you and Kato…I dunno… alright." He shrugged, "I'll be there too, with Ms. Case."

Jimmy brightened, "Kato as well?" Reid swallowed, Scanlon's eyes on him, judging his mask of cool, "Kato as well. He hasn't forgotten his promise to stand with you."

"Then we will be fine. We will have our friends and family about us…what could break that?"

 _A steel-toothed chakram to the head or heart could_ … The thought flashed crudely across Reid's conscious as he stood in ending to the meeting. "I think you should go home now, Jimmy. I'll drive you. Call me tonight…after you've told Mary and Uncle."

Scanlon left with Jimmy at his side, quietly reassuring him of their plan. He nodded and agreed but it was empty in nature. He waited for Reid as the publisher at last called in his bulldog Axford; soothed his snaggletooth with a flourished presentation of a fully typed manuscript. They discussed it in rapidly diffused gesturing and words. The elder reporter nearly jumped up and down for joy; jettisoned from the office with the spring of a man of twenty.

Reid joined him then, his somberness unfazed. "It's in Mr. Axford's hands now." He slid his arm over bony shoulders, "I want you to know that you're very brave, Jimmy. I should be thanking you—I am, deeply so."

And in the way he said, Jimmy knew he meant it…but it went beyond just that, and the implications fuzzed his brain all over again. His grimace was unaccepting of the gratitude, "Take me home, Mr. Reid."


	9. A Dragon's Blood Is Fire

**_6:00 am_ **

**_Thursday_ **

**_May 9_ ** **_th_ ** **_1968_ **

**_Reid Residence_ **

The phone ringing oddly fit in with Kato's dream, so he didn't move to answer it. Because in the dream, answering that phone would be the worst decision he could possibly make. It represented the evil he was trying to run from.

Having someone abruptly answer that phone mussed the continuity. He lost the threads of subconciousness, awaking to hear a hushed whispering from the study.

His couch sprawling crinked the muscles in his back; muscles already warped by injury and strain. He stiffly maneuvered off the cushions, holding his side. Britt sat in his office chair, absently turning his chair lightly side to side. He was half-awake, his pajama top was open- obviously he'd thrown it on; obviously the call must have been important.

Kato hung on the door frame, watching him wake up as the call progressed. His brow furrowed deeply, giving him lines he hadn't deserved yet to have. He did look older…his mouth a pale line as he nodded shortly, hanging up. Maybe it was just the poor lighting. Or maybe this was taking an unfair toll...

"Who was it?" His voice was creaky, dry. He swallowed. Britt rubbed his face brusquely, now fully awake. 'Jimmy…he…didn't feel up to calling right away last night. Been up since, thinking."

"…he told them, then."

"He told them."

"…and the wedding's still on."

Britt flicked scoring look over him, "Did you expect it wouldn't be? Mary's twice as stubborn…gets that from her Uncle… _ **and you."**_

"She's brave. Braver than we gave her credit for…."

"Bravery can disguise a lot of other things: naivety, ignorance, arrogance."

Kato cocked his head at him, jutting his chin out, "You wouldn't say that about Casey."

Britt blinked, "That's different."

"Why?...Because you love her?"

"Because I trust her."

"And you don't trust Mary? What do you think she's going to do? She's just trying to get married, Britt. Start a life with the man she loves. It's not her fault monsters prey on good people. That's our fault: because we become those monsters too to stop them; only we didn't. _**I didn't.**_ So yes, bravery can mask a lot of things, all of which I'll accept on myself. Just don't misplace that on a person _**I**_ happen to trust."

Britt stuck his tongue in his cheek, pivoting the chair in consideration. "To think a couple days ago you were defending us to them." He stood, coming around to put his arm comfortably around Kato's shoulders, like they used to do as kids, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come off the way I did." Up close, the circles under both eyes, the tightness at their corners, highlighted his stress and instantly rebuked Kato: so much was riding on them and they didn't even know the whole score yet, except that it was increasingly life or death.

"This isn't easy." He was saying, looking absently off over his shorter friend's head. "I—I don't know what to do next, you know? I don't know how to _**fight**_ this! So used to be on the offensive, having to take the defensive…feels so exposing."

He dropped his gaze back to Kato, and smiled to himself, "You know when you took off after Cānglóng, and I was worried about what do to then…Casey kind of put me in my place. She helped me realize…maybe even though I did trust you, it's the world around us that I can't. I've seen so much ugliness from humanity, the worst that could be offered, and we've spit in its face time and again, that I didn't want to lose one of the bright spots. You're my brother, Kato. I trust whatever you do, and whoever you trust. If I—," he gestured for the words, "You know…get too Green Hornet, just know that's where I'm coming from."

They walked together into the kitchen, Britt evidently deciding to stay up.

"Make coffee?" Kato offered hopefully.

"No, don't worry about it. I'll do it. I'm going to make an appearance at the office today, need to psych myself up for that. You should go back to sleep."

Kato twisted his mouth off to the side, somewhat teasing, somewhat griping, "You act like I'm an invalid or something…"

Britt chuckled, "Or something."

Kato made a gesture with a finger, grinning sourly. He left Britt sniggering, falling back asleep the moment his head touched cushion.

* * *

**5:00pm**

**Thursday**

**May 9** **th** **, 1968**

**Daily Sentinel**

Casey answered the phone as she was leaving. Thoroughly exhausted from playing catch up all day, her voice betrayed as much. "Mr. Reid's office, this is his Secretary speaking. How may I help you."

"You sound as tired as I feel."

Casey smiled, "Mr. Scanlon…yes, playing catch up."

"Is he still in?"

Casey glanced into the main office, "You're in luck."

"How's Kato?"

She splayed her fingers across her forehead, bowing under a blossoming headache. "Resting."

"Still going to let him go?"

"Well," she glanced into the main office, "That's more Britt's department than mine. I have a distinct feeling they're going to hash that out tonight."

"I hope to see you all tomorrow then."

She smiled, "Of course. You too, Mr. Scanlon. Transferring over now."

She held the phone against her collarbone, pressing the button that activated the scrambled line. Britt was alerted by the buzzing glow of the phone from its cabinet and looked up, questioning. She nodded, mouthed 'Scanlon'.

"Frank?"

"Britt, got some… _ **interesting**_ information for you.

"Really?"

"Yes, remember you asked me to look in on Lo Sing at the State Pen?"

"Yeah?"

"Your Black Dragon is not Lo Sing, that I am positive."

"So he's still locked up?"

"No."

"No?"

"He's dead."

" _ **Dead**_?"

"Yeah. Remember that exercise yard brawl?"

"He was involved?"

"Started it. Not even a month into his sentence. Buried in the pauper's cemetery."

"Do we have a death certificate?"

"I can request it?"

"Do that."

"Britt, it's not him. He's dead."

"Well, I know but…"

"Would it make you feel better if I said there's a 'however' in all this?"

He sat forward, attention piqued, "A 'however'? Do tell."

"I pulled prison records on a whim, for the last two years surrounding Lo Sing's imprisonment. There's been a rather large and unusual spike in prison transfers from different parts of the state into the State Pen."

" 'Rather large and unusual'. What does that mean?"

"You don't get to the state pen except for the more grievous of crimes, you know that."

"And these transfers…didn't commit grievous crimes?"

"No, not uniformly. The pattern was of something else entirely: they're all Chinese migrants. Mostly from Hong Kong."

Britt frowned, "Chinese migrants…Hong Kong…like Lao Yin's workers …I don't get it, missing something…"

"Something _**is**_ going on…has been for a while it seems. I'll keep digging, let you know."

"Right. Thanks. …See you tomorrow?"

"I'll be there, along with the CCPD. Although for the most part you won't see me."

Britt grinned, "Taking a page from my play book, Frank?"

"Heh, nothing so cloak and dagger."

"Bye Frank."

"Bye."

Casey watched him hang up the phone, staring into space. She knocked hesitantly, opening the door a crack. "May I?"

He snapped to, leaning back in his seat, smiling normally, "Course, Ms. Case. Leaving for the day?"

"About to. Did you want me to stop in, check on Kato?"

"No…I'm going in a bit too. The paper can go to bed well enough without me…survived this week without me, so."

Casey folded her hands together, inclining her neck, "I'll be dressed by 8 tomorrow morning. See you then?"

Britt played with the gleam in her eye, "I look forward to that, Ms. Case."

"Remember your best tie now."

She turned to leave.

Britt called out, "Casey?"

"Yes?"

"That biography spread on Lao Yin is out. He'll know we're interested in him—and his kind of interest may not be the healthiest. If-."

"If you're trying to tell me it's okay to back out, forget it. Everyone else is brave enough to stand up to these bullies and murderers. I think I'm made of the same strong stuff, don't you?"

Britt came out from around his desk, the right corner of his mouth shooting up as his mind inevitably went to the wrong place with that; a switch she caught and drolly rolled eyes at. "Kind of gave that one to me…You are, Casey. You're the bravest woman I know." He took her by the shoulders, "I just..."

Casey relaxed, a petulant yet becoming pout rounding her lips, "Want to protect me. As usual. And you do; every time. But…this time…"

"It's not something I can turn on and off, you know."

A warm hand over his heart, "I know."

He caught her hand as she took it away, her fingers slipping through his like water. Their spark of electricity was almost visible.

_You're going to have to marry her when this is over with._

* * *

_**7:30pm** _

_**Thursday** _

_**May 9** _ _**th** _ _**, 1968** _

_**Reid Residence** _

Kato smoothed his jaunty white jacket over the lumpiness of his bandages. The yearning to remain in PJs and bathrobe was sweetly tempting, but duty and an equally strong yearning to return to normalcy won out. He was certainly not one hundred percent, catching himself wavering with lightheadedness every now and then, but he was far more able than he had been. More than that, he hoped the wafting smells of dinner would set Britt more at ease. When his friend returned for the night, he saw there really wasn't much he or food could do in that department.

After listening to softly spoken curses emanating from the bathroom once the sound of running water diminished, and the clatter of bottles hitting floor tile, of drawers being slammed and toes being stubbed, Kato leaned back first on their counterspace, eyebrows cocked and arms folded, to witness the emergence of a thoroughly stewing Britt; now sporting a band aid on his freshly shaved jawline. That would account for the swearing….

"You're banging around here like you a two year old. You know that, right?"

"What of it."

"You could eat something…and we could talk about it."

"We could. But I don't want to rehash what an all-around disaster this has turned into…"

Kato poured him a cup of piping hot brew. He sipped at it, restless; down to an undershirt and pajama pants. Hard knots of tension noticeably bunched muscle. Beneath the table, his leg jumped a fast steady rhythm. He finally broke his private musing to pull a chair out beside him. Kato offered a squinty eyed appraisal of the offering before taking it.

"Black Dragon isn't Lo Sing."

A pregnant silence followed as Kato mulled this admission.

…"Mr. Scanlon is sure of this?"

"Lo Sing is dead. He died in a prison yard riot a month into his sentence."

Kato drew back, "I see."

"There's more."

"Go on."

"Lao Yin is importing a lot of Chinese labor into the city for his projects—all from Hong Kong, all bad news types. They're obviously his fighters—we know that, but it's not enough to stop him. So Frank did more digging—a noticeable uptick in Chinese migrants convicted of small crimes, again, from a Hong Kong point of origin, transferred in to the State Pen beginning right after Lo Sing was sentenced."

Kato bowed his head, "Too much of a coincidence."

"For me too. It's not just the fight rings now…whatever it is… it's a lot bigger and badder than that."

Their eyes met, mentally tailing all the incriminating photographs of Lao Yin chumming it up with high ranking government officials, the cover ups, the pay offs, the smuggling…the violence. They spoke together, "Hostile takeover."

The one thing the Green Hornet didn't know how to fight.

"Frank's looking for the death certificate…and I thought that would make me feel better but…it's too convenient, too much wrapping paper with a bow on it…"

Kato rubbed his side, bleakly considering the options, "Now do you see why I didn't want you involved?"

Britt downed his cup, and swooped from his seat to pour more, "Too late for that."

"These threads you wanted to unravel, Britt. I swore to you…nothing good ever comes from them. Especially…" he sighed fitfully, "Especially if Cānglóng _ **knows.**_ "

He watched his friend freeze. Breathing stilled as he pivoted in place to stare, frightfully bright eyed. "Knows?" He drew the word out. "As in…* _ **knows***_?

Kato nodded grimly, "My Way is…unique, to say the least. When I saw him using it, and trying to pull me into using it…I refused. Even so…he saw I knew exactly what he was doing. And if he is the true omnipotent student of the dâ zhàng he contends to be, then he knows the story of the street rat Hayashi Kato and his Way…the Way that killed the infamous Han and his empire. And if he has my Master, like I think he does, it's all assured: He. Knows. Everything."

Britt rushed to sit before his legs jellied on him. "Holy shit." He covered his mouth, reeling. He sought to catch up, a hundred different thoughts and emotions colliding at once. His palms went cold and clammy, pupils dilated as adrenaline surged. Impulses fired for panic instead of rationality. "…I wondered what this would feel like…once it happened. Feels…strangely liberating, in a death warmed over kind of way…"

Kato took his arm in solidarity. "This changes everything. I don't know what you want to do. You said earlier today how confusing and off putting this was already. But…if I could suggest it…perhaps it's time for the contingency plans."

Britt gaped at him, still feeling a beat behind. "Contingency. What? You mean…run?"

"We hit the country estate for supplies and then the family jet to China—I fly it so there's no pilot or flight plan. We stay at the farm we bought under a false name until things cool down. Just like we planned."

Britt sat away from him, fumbling, "Wha-? Kato. I'm…I'm not running. That's bullshit, I-!"

"-Bullshit?! Bullshit-that's the contingency plan! Remember: if the Green Hornet was ever blown, that's what we would do? _**You're blown, Britt**_! We all are. It's time to go."

Britt lowered the aquamarine boom, his eyes' hold over Kato reverberating in the depth of his words, "We're going to fight this with the paper. We're going to undermine the foundations of the operation until there's nothing left to hold on to! Jimmy said this was bigger than the sum of all our lives: we treat it as such! That means no running!"

"No running?" He fumed. "No running—okay, how about when Cānglóng makes good on his threats: havoc and chaos like you've never seen before? AND IT'S AIMED RIGHT AT YOU…AND CASEY…AND FRANK." His voice dropped instantly. "What then? What about your pride then?"

"It's not pride, Kato! It's the promise I made when I became the Green Hornet. It's this city I won't abandon! I'm blown: maybe. Frank and Casey are in danger: what else is new. I did that to them, and I protect them that much more for it. We have to stay! The Black Dragon can't have the satisfaction of being validated. We have to cast a shadow of a doubt on his thinking we're the Green Hornet and partner, so we can buy some time for Frank to round up a case against them!"

Kato, however, held firm. He was rigid in his seat, his words scathingly crisp, "No amount of threatening on the grounds of law and order will stop them. There's no law and order that _**can**_. Hong Kong's corruption made it possible for the old dâ zhàng and its masters to carry on for years. Hundreds were killed or maimed. Millions were made on this bloodshed! You think Century City has something on this that Hong Kong didn't?! United States of America or not, look at those pictures Mike Axford took for you! Lao Yin has brought those very seeds corruption **here.** _**We're no different now**_ _._ This could be Hong Kong, or any one of the thousands of cities around the world whose leaders took the fruit offered by these snakes!"

He latched on to his friend's arm with meaning, "What I'm trying to say is…men like that, they only know brute force on brute force. I ended Han by killing him…because that was the only option left. I'll fly you and the others out…and then I'll come back. I'll end it…the only way it can."

Britt sat tilted, giving him the clearest look of supreme recoil, "You don't get to decide that." He whispered hoarsely.

"The blood on my hands says I do."

He leaned inward, dangerous intent written all over him, "And I say: you don't. Did I not make it clear we're getting out of this together? WAS THAT NOT CLEAR THE FIRST TEN TIMES I SAID IT?"

Kato surveyed him calmly, "It's not going to work, Britt. I just…don't want you to be there when it blows up on us. Maybe you shouldn't go to the wedding tomorrow."

"I was thinking the same thing about you."

"I have to be there: best man."

"Then what makes you think I won't show up either." Britt scoffed, "Thanks…for thinking I'm a complete asshole…"

Kato splayed his hands over the table top, contemplating his fingers: bruised and cut. "You know Lao Yin is going to be there…and where he is, Black Dragon follows. Whatever's going to go down, it goes down tomorrow."

Britt's face twitched, pained.

"I really don't want you to be there…"

"But I am going to be there. Me. Casey. Frank. And a whooole squadron of police and SWAT. Whatever happens…" He regarded Kato intently, "Don't become the Green Hornet's companion—don't fight. We can start there."

He frowned in turn, "I have so many other promises at stake as it is. I can't make any more." That morosely sunk in for Britt. He wordlessly swirled his coffee, no doubt that black whirling cupful matched his mood for good. Kato pushed out his seat. He decided to release a smidgen of the blackness with a cat-slurping-the-cream grin, rapping table top with his knuckles. "But. Really. When have I ever let you down?"

Britt's demeanor slowly unwrapped itself from its gloom, a cautious grin forming. His forehead wrinkled as brows arched at Kato, who was already beyond his admission and getting plates down for dinner. He slung back, hugging the chair back in a side grip, "Diplomacy or diabolical, I can't decide."

Kato paused in his movements, "Friendship." He half-turned, "I've been at your side too long to kid myself, or you." Shoulders rose and fell in a nonchalant shrug, an act of no big deal. They both knew otherwise; would always know otherwise.

* * *

_**11:50 pm** _

_**Thursday** _

_**May 9** _ _**th** _ _**, 1968** _

_**Business District Construction Zone** _

_**The new Hightower Banking Complex** _

A familiar foreign plated sedan parked outside the perimeter of the cyclone fencing protecting the area. The night guard appeared to open the back passenger door. Lao Yin stepped out, looking at the guard by not seeing him. He was like any other of his men here: Hong Kong street thug: extensive criminal record, tough, well-rehearsed in some form of gung fu and very handy with a blade. Curling around his right thumb, a newly inked black dragon tattoo marked him for life.

The guard took the lead into the darkened work area, retrieving a flash light from a low level scaffold. The hulking structure starkly emblazoned on the skyline, just like its other growing brothers, was nearly completed. It wasn't the outside that mattered to Lao Yin. Oh, he'd agree it deserved a spot in his pantheon of architectural achievements. It was what lay underneath…that made his heart sing.

The basement parking lot remained unfinished, just concrete and steel walls containing churned earth; heavily guarded by the night watchmen's cohorts: all sporting the mark of the Dragon, all dressed head to toe in black. This wall of muscle stiffened as Lao Yin approached.

" _Wǎnshàng hǎo,_ good evening."

They responded _en masse_ : " _Wǎnshàng hǎo."_

The night guard wordlessly handed off the flashlight. Lao Yin accepted it, black eyes gleaming. "The eve of our great moment. I speak with our Master now, for the final time. By this time tomorrow, this city will be ours."

A resounding "Huh!" echoed.

They parted down the middle for him as he moved in, revealing a cavernous archway. Beyond that was a passageway to the depths of Century City itself: the Dragon's getaway.

Lao Yin thumbed the on switch. The bulbous head of the flashlight became a golden eye. The human wall formed up behind him. He descended the roughly cut stairs, light beam bobbing with each step. The deeper he ventured the faster the temperature dropped. Lao Yin's breath was now visible. Up ahead, the slope smoothed out, and warm light broached. He doused his, allowing his senses to carry him the rest of the way.

On level ground, several miles under civilization, the beginning of his master plan; his own personal claim to glory. He touched the earthen surface, reinforced by the best structural designers and workers in the world. The perks of owning the most successful construction firm in the world. The best for the best.

"Savoring the moment?"

The Black Dragon appeared in a swish of coat and dust, gravelling. Hard as a black diamond.

Lao Yin curled his lips, smooth and ready. " _ **Your**_ moment, Shīfu."

The dragon tattoo stretched, " _ **Our**_ …moment…Lao Yin. I am most impressed."

The compliment had the most sincerity Lao Yin could ever expect and it was hugely gratifying. He bowed, "You honor me, my shīfu. I was only carrying out your vision."

"No." He tilted a dangerous look, his inner fire fanned, "You made it better." He beckoned to follow by turning on his heel. Lao Yin fell in step, listening to the purr of a man darkly contented. "The tunnels are shored completely. Your men are machines. I commend you."

"Again you honor me."

"Those that we created interconnect us end to end with those of the city and most importantly, Chinatown. I will tell you, Lao Yin, I did not think this possible just a few days ago."

"We have the best of everything at your disposal, my shīfu: expect miracles."

Now they stopped, because they'd reached their underground safe haven: a paradise of stone and sweat. Their fighters were hard at training, the air thick with testosterone and grunted yells. The luxuries and amenities would rival any gym, any training house. And all within the safety of the sub terrain.

Black Dragon moved through them like a ghost, their gazes hungrily following him but getting nothing in return. He had them over their barrels, so stoked on the lure of the dâ zhàng; to be living that legend they'd grown up with. That's how he held them: legend.

Alone again, entering another newly constructed tunnel, Black Dragon intoned with soft menacing, "The charges are set."

"Chosen with exact precision to destroy above, but lock us down below. Chinatown will be obliterated while securing our tunnel systems from the center out by tons of rock. My buildings will protect the rest. I will emerge as the city's premier benefactor, the only one capable and, of course, _**willing**_ to stay on and rebuild for them." His eyes sparkled, "A dynasty for the ages." Lao Yin produced a small rectangular remote control from his pocket. The power contained in that little box squeezed his heart with excitement, "Have you even seen raw nitroglycerin explode, my Shīfu?" His voice was thin, caressing the words.

Cānglóng was solid in his standing, baring no emotion. "No."

A frightful grin erupted on Lao Yin, a rare glimpse at his inner mania, "Hellfire. The concussive blast is twice as strong as a typhoon's winds. The sound, too…it's like thunder…but deeper, louder…angrier."

All he got for a response was, "This sounds exactly what Jimmy Kee needs."

Lao Yin swallowed, quickly switching to his usual austere composure. "It is why I suggested it." He presented the remote to his Master, "This is for the final blast." Cānglóng took it, the box disappearing up his voluminous sleeves. He sneered to himself, "How else will you become Century City's _**savior**_ …if Britt Reid isn't dead? If his paper isn't destroyed? One article is too many. You know there is more coming…more cheap pictures from that reporter. I hope he is the first to die." He moved on to his demands. "Your departure will be the signal. Make sure Jimmy Kee sees you. He must know his end. I wish it."

"Of course, my shīfu."

"If Britt Reid and Hayashi Kato are not killed in the initial blasts…I will finish them personally. I command that."

Lao Yin hesitated, which never did well for him with the Dragon.

"-Your continued lack of respect…Lao Yin…is growing tiresome." Cānglóng imperiously gazed into space, visualizing the blood he'd spill. "Every mortal should know his mortality. It is time the Green Hornet-." He scoffed nastily, "- _Britt Reid_ was given his. And Hayashi Kato." The Black Dragon was poised on a spring of revenge, so ready to kill his idol and his destroyer, "He survived one _Jìngzi de fángjiān_. He will not survive mine. I will demolish the Daily Sentinel when I am through with Kato. That is your time table."

Lao Yin agreed, explaining, "The initial round of blasts will be our disguise. Everyone will be running to see the cause. My men will slip in and slip out. Our reign will be secured."

They stood face to face a second longer. Then wordlessly split: man to surface, dragon to dirt. Soon the two would be one.

* * *

_**Friday** _

_**May 10** _ _**th** _ _**, 1968** _

_**11:00 am** _

_**Century City Park** _

A shock of luscious green sandwiched between the grey and dirty whites of the city, Century City Park was a sprawling reminder that life could be sweet and slow if one could take a moment to realize it. A closed group of twenty five people were taking a moment right then…to celebrate the joining of two young lives. That they were already under threat even as the bride walked the red carpeted aisle to her waiting groom wasn't allowed to detract.

Piercing the grove of fully canopied maples and elms, white doves took flight on their release. The wedding of Jimmy Kee and Mary Chang was officially underway.

A red carpet through the natural arch of the trees brought the bride, escorted down the aisle by her beaming Uncle Keye, to a hand crafted trimaran. On board, the wedding party: consisting of the couple's immediate family and close friends, their officiating priest, and Jimmy—standing tall and proud in his tuxedo. Britt and Casey were in the back row of seats. Kato stood behind the groom.

All eyes were on the rapturously beautiful bride, her blue wrap gown with gold oriental accents, a pearl hair comb, and most spectacularly, her matching set of sapphire tiara, necklace and earrings. She was aglow with an inner light that no makeup foundation could ever give.

"Beautiful," Casey whispered. "Just beautiful," A quick wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief followed. She, as every other woman in attendance, had made sure their outfit would easily pale to the bride's. Yet in the simplicity of her cream outfit and sun hat, and single drop emerald necklace, she was her usual breathtaking self. Britt's newly tailored jet black suit accentuated the athletic cut of his body.

"Don't cry yet, she hasn't even made it aboard." Britt chided cheekily out of the corner of his mouth. She tutted, gave him a look…which made it quite simple to check out this new suit…and the body under it. She hid her smile, biting down on her lip to keep from looking so overt. Of course her wide brim also made a perfect screen on her blushing.

He knew, though. He'd done it too her, subvertly, on the ride over. It was the game they played.

They applauded her arrival at the boat. Uncle helped her up over the edge; giving her over to Jimmy. The two lovebirds shared a layered heavy gaze of love and affection and…relief…the moment had arrived at last.

"Look at them. I've never seen two people so hopelessly in love before." Casey whispered as the line anchoring the trimaran to shore was released. A nudge into the currents sent it outward. Two longer lines pulled taunt once the float reach their limits, just about at the center of the lake. "No?" Britt ventured quietly, with utmost care in his tone. Sharp as ever, his hidden double entendre was captured and held by with a quick darting of her gaze back to the couple. They were now delivering their vows.

Kato was just behind his friend's side, tamping down what would have been a goofy grin. He was a sucker for sentimentality—though only those closest to him knew that. He looked relaxed and handsome himself, hands folded loosely in front. His traditional choice of outfit set him apart from the other guests, something he carried off without a second thought: he was living his words and beliefs right in the open. Since everyone in attendance knew of the past discord between Jimmy and Kato, it was a quiet reaffirmation of his personal stance.

In ten minutes time, Jimmy took Mary's left hand to slowly slide on the sparkling diamond wedding ring until it met its more simplistic engagement cousin.

Their priest spread his arms in offering, "You may kiss your bride."

The group awed and clapped on their intimate moment of triumphant. Mr. and Mrs. Jimmy Kee turned to enjoy their party's approval. Mary reached across her husband for Kato, clutching at him, beaming with opalesque tears in her eyes. "Kato! Oh, Kato! I—I…!" She was overcome, laughing through the utter crush of relief. Kato pecked her on the cheek, "I'll take my customary kiss early!"

"Thank you," she whispered in his grasp, "Thank you so much!"

"Anything for you and Jimmy," he replied in kind, "Anything. You know that."

Their moment passed when Jimmy gathered her into him to go to the bow of the boat for their return ride in. On board motors off the rear smoothly turned over to power their load for shore. Britt and Casey met up with him when he chose to hang back to watch them stand together.

"Well, well, best man-that was easy."

Kato wiped his brow, "Whew, I dunno. I dunno if I could be the groom, that's for sure. Should have seen Jimmy shake. He hid it when it counted. Proud of him."

Britt stepped in, "You okay? You look a little shaky yourself."

Kato smiled tightly, "Don't worry about me-I can't pass out. This is the last place I would." He sought out Jimmy and Mary, still astern, shaking guest's hands. The sun framed the newlyweds with glittering light.

"I should get back to my place. Catch up with you at the reception."

Britt wrapped Casey's arm around his, keeping her close, as Kato left them. His eyes instinctively took in their surroundings, especially the nooks and crannies of the shoreline, and the trees, with their shielded branches…

"See something?"

Britt took a whiff of the air, as if he would smell Cānglóng on it. "No." he stated firmly. "Nothing. Frank's not far either." As if that made all the difference in the world. He winced inwardly: he feared it wouldn't.

The trimaran bumped land, drawn in by its stays.

"Let's go. They're disembarking."

She pulled back on him for a moment, hesitating, "Would it be wrong…if I said I had a bad feeling?"

Britt covered her hand, staring straight ahead at Kato's back as he jumped off, "It's only wrong if Kato says it."

They shared a trouble side glance. The wedding guests cajoled and happily carried the couple to their waiting limo. Kato disappeared inside with them. Its long lean form curved around the exiting bend of the parking lot, destined for Chinatown and their reception. Britt felt that all too familiar click in the pit of his stomach that always accompanied the arrival of dread in his blood system.

He took to holding Casey's hand, clear and without airs of subtly, on the walk back to their car. "Stay close." He said suddenly, lowly.

He saw he face tightened in fear, and she fought to cover it with a fumble over sunglasses. "I'd say you just trying to scare me…but you being you…and all that…absolutely. Except, I don't think I could leave you if the chips fall."

"You will. You've done it before."

"Because you were wearing the mask and I had to, for appearance's sake."

"Then pretend I'm wearing the mask now."

"That's hardly possible."

They stopped short of his white Chevrolet convertible by Britt's commanding backwards pull on her grip. "Look at me." He said with very demanding gentleness. She slipped off her sunglasses, folded them carefully in half. Her green eyes were on fire with defiance.

"I am _**always**_ …wearing the mask…even when I'm not."

Her lips parted in bewilderment, "No, you're not! There's a line…between Britt Reid and the Green Hornet. There's always have been— _ **has to be**_."

He shook his head. "Before this, yes. But now, there's a threat in my city that I can't fight in the usual ways. And it's a grave threat against you…and Frank and Kato, obviously, but you…I—I can't risk that. I'll be who I have to be to protect you."

She bowed her head, jarred by this openness with her. "I told you,' trying to deflect, "You don't have to protect me. It's my job to protect you just as much."

He fretted, searching over her head for the right way to reveal this. He pulled her in close when he decided direct and to the point always worked best. They were close enough that each breath she took contained his aftershave. The special kind he liked…the one she always remembered to get for him for Christmas. Their lips could have touched- would have, if either hadn't pulled up; still playing their game.

"I didn't want to tell you this." He murmured, "I didn't want to scare you…supposed to be a happy day, after all. You deserve to know: Cānglóng knows _**everything.**_ And when I say _**everything**_ …" his voice broke in half when he saw terror well up in her eyes as tears and the whole body clenching as fight or flight kicked in. "—No, don't…don't…" His voice went husky as he hugged her until their bodies completely conformed.

" _ **Everything**_?!" he heard her half sob, half whisper.

"Everything." He repeated staidly in her hair.

"This is suicide! This is-! Does Jimmy and Mary-?! She searched his face for more answers, for _**some**_ reassurance.

"Everybody involved is aware how dangerous this is. You knew…going in…and you were so brave, as always. I should have told you before this. There's an almost one hundred percent chance of whatever big move they're planning against us is going to happen today; when we're all together for the reception. Frank is aware too, of the changes…but we have to face the possibility he's not going to be enough. That-."

He paused, breaking off. He couldn't bear the look on her face any longer. " _ **Damn it**_!"

"No," she grabbed his lapels, gulping her words. "No, go on!"

He worked his jaw in turn, before answering with forced calm, "That I'm going to have to send you and Frank out of the States until I handle things here."

She balked, hard, mouth hanging open. "Send…? Britt, you'd—you'd leave yourself to that? _**Us**_ …to that?"

"To keep you out of harm's way, I'd do anything. I'm not running from this, neither is Kato. I had to talk him out of flying us to China and him coming back to finish things himself: THAT's how serious this is. You and Frank, though, it's my fault you're involved: I involved you, I'm getting you out. End of story. When it's safe, I'll come get you."

"It's not running when it saves you to fight another day!" she stated fiercely in breathy rush.

"I can't, Casey. I can't leave this city to Him." He shook his head sadly, "I'll die first; I mean that."

For the very first time in their unnamable relationship, Casey drove herself into his arms. He wrapped them around her willingly, tightly, absorbed her pain into his own.

"Don't say that." She whispered heatedly. "Don't ever say that."

"It doesn't change it." he returned in her ear. "Whether I say it or not…it's what I feel. The Green Hornet is only the manifestation."

They hung on to each other until Casey tears dried. She angled her chin at him with the utmost seriousness, her shoulders pulling back smartly, "Then it stands, doesn't it? We protect each other."

* * *

_**4:00 pm** _

_**May 10** _ _**th** _ _**, 1968** _

_**Kee Wedding Reception Block Party** _

_**Chinatown** _

The day continued on its sunnily perfect course; promise of a brilliant summer was on the warm breezes and bright laughter of children at play. The main thoroughfare of Chinatown was cordoned off end to end by Century City Municipal roadblocks. A cornucopia of red streamers, balloons, origami figures, and fireworks had exploded over the area earlier in the festivities. Their remnants provided endless amusement for the younger ones.

The many tables set up in a massive buffet line had a constant supply of refill, steaming platters left over hot burners. The chefs of the Golden Lotus were in fine form. Uncle weaved among the partygoers, ready to burst, his smile so wide and never-ending. He encouraged all to eat, eat! Chinese ballads rose up in competition with the horn section of the local smooth jazz band Mary had hired for the younger generations. She'd taken off her tiara and jewelry, and let some of her hair fly from her comb, her radiance undiminished. Currently, she was attempting to pull Kato onto the dance floor her organizers had moved into the middle of Chinatown Main.

"No…Mary, c'mon."

"You are the best dancer here, Kato! You won a dance off, didn't you?"

"That was a long time ago. Honestly…"

Those still interested in the dancing hollered and caterwauled at him to get with it. He sighed exaggeratedly, "Fine. Fine… But no funny business…you're a married women now."

Mary laughed, taking his hand. "And you, sir." She waggled her finger at him. "You behave yourself. My husband is watching."

Kato turned around. Sure enough, Jimmy was front and center in the onlookers, his mask of charmed happiness slipping a little with each passing hour. He looked a little green around the gills, but still acted the part with a choppy wave.

Britt mingled with some of the other prominent businessmen of the community. They were particularly interested in the article published the previous day regarding the mysterious Lao Yin. Britt was quite interested in their opinions too…

"His personnel file from our Far East Office is slim," He lied. "We're digging deep in our resources to get the information on him we need. Are any of you gentlemen familiar with his people?"

"He is a ghost, Mr. Reid. His people came out of nowhere in the late 1950s, Hong Kong." The elderly vice president of the Tsoy Yin Tong, Heung Lin, supplied. "I was visiting my family during the days after the fall of the infamous Han. Do you know about Han, Mr. Reid?"

Britt flickered a look to Kato on the dancefloor, noncommittedly, "The Far East office mentioned him."

"He was a brutal, barbaric man. When the Red Dragon killed him and destroyed the Empire of evil he controlled, the whole world was better off."

Britt cocked his head, replaying these words back on a fast rewind, "Hold on, excuse me…you said… _ **the Red Dragon**_ …killed Han?"

Heung Lin cleared his throat as several of the older men hummed in fond agreement. "Some knew his real name…but they never shared. Those that didn't know his name but knew his legend, called him ' _Hónglóng_ ': the Red Dragon, a brave warrior.

Britt swiveled his head about to Kato, ogling him with a hard scouring look, "That I didn't know. …So you don't know who he actually was?"

"No. Only a select few. And Han—but," he smiled, missing several teeth, "He's dead. Lao Yin's father rose out of the ashes of Han's empire as the legitimate heir to the corruption. He washed it all away, pretending to be honest. We knew, in our hearts, he still lied. But like his son now, he was a ghost. When he died, no one knew, even though he was one of the richest men in the world. Nor did we know he even had a son, until he appeared, like smoke in Han's infamous mirrors. Heung Lin coughed, "I am interested in seeing what his next move will be in the city."

"The Far East Office hints at his dishonesty…why hasn't anyone tried to get to the truth."

The group stilled around him; even the breeze dropped a few degrees. Heung Lin glared undereye at him, "Mr. Reid…our community commends you and your paper for always doing what's right: for us, for our city. But even you must see…that there are some threads…you do not pull on. This…is one of them. Let Lao Yin alone. So far, he has only added great value to our city, provided jobs for our men."

Britt latched on to the same warning from Heung Lin…as Kato had given him. For some reason it made him angry to hear it. "What if I know more than I'm letting on…and I know he's dirty. Isn't it my duty to follow it, end it. The Daily Sentinel stands for such things, not those of the likes of Lao Yin."

Uncle appeared at his side, his beaming boastful self. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, I'll have no discussion of business or politics here! Come! Eat. Plenty of food! Mr. Reid, how good to see you…!"

The group melded away, leaving the two of them. Britt shook Uncle's hand, a stoic for the old man's sake. "So far, so good."

At last, Uncle faltered, his smiling dimming. He plucked at his collar, "Yes. So far. No sign of them. Perhaps…we were overexcited."

"Now, now," Britt searched the crowds for good measure, "Days still young. How's Jimmy holding up?"

"A typical groom on his wedding day: doesn't know which way's up or down. All he can see is Mary."

Her lovely laughter trickled over top of the conversation. Britt turned to see Kato daring to dip her in their dance. "She is beautiful. You're a lucky man, Uncle."

"First a daughter…now a son!" He relished.

The crowd at the platform clapped their end of the dance, giving Kato his due as he motioned at Jimmy to get up there too. Britt narrowed on the stumbling step Kato took from the last stair down. Casey appeared at his side, subtly concerned, handing his a glass of punch. They spoke in each others ear, Kato motioning vaguely at his side. Casey's alarmed gaze shot up and across the way for Britt. "Excuse me, Uncle. Be right back."

Kato was at the buffet table, making a show of filling his plate.

"What's the matter."

"Nothing…my side. Shouldn't have danced."

"Is it open again?"

Kato coolly shrugged, "Maybe. Not worried about it."

Britt huffed, taking a plate himself. He shrugged at Casey, opting for, "How's Mary?"

"Good. Beautiful. Happy. Like she doesn't deserve to have her day ruined. Refuses even to talk or think about Black Dragon. I don't blame her."

Mary and Jimmy exited the platform hand in hand, the complete center of attention. "Casey, ohhh, I'm so happy to see you. I'm sorry, I would have come to say hi earlier but-." She shrugged delicately, laughing, "They were right when they say you can't eat at your own wedding. Ohhh, it looks good though!"

Casey kissed on the cheek, squeezing her hand good-naturedly, "Don't you dare worry about thing: it's your day. You're a beautiful bride, Mary." She looked to Jimmy, "And you, the blushing groom!"

That was good for several hearty chuckles, Kato included. Jimmy blushed redder. "It shows that much?" Mary kissed him, "That much, darling." She sneaked a spoonful of her Uncle's specialty soup for good measure, glorying in it, "Oh my, that's always the best." She swallowed and wiped her mouth on a napkin, fluttering like a bird. She kissed Jimmy again, on the move, "Be right back, baby. Don't go off dancing with one of those young things, now!"

Jimmy tried to stay with her movements, but lost her as a group of children swarmed him, or more aptly, Kato, still standing by with his plateful of goodies. "Kato, Kato! You come with us! You show us gung fu!"

Kato waved them off, swallowing his mouthful, "Not today."

A collective groaning "Awwww."

"Honestly. Now go on! Be good!"

They swarmed off in a group, searching for other playthings or people.

"Are you keeping an eye out?" Jimmy asked feverishly.

Britt sipped his punch, "Of course. Mr. Scanlon is not far away. No sign."

Jimmy grunted, whipping his brow with his handkerchief. "Good. It's been a good day." He pressed, as if he could make it so just by saying it.

Britt was sympathetic. "Yes, Jimmy. A good day." He stuck out his hand, "Congratulations."

The younger man swallowed, nodding fitfully in their handshake, "Thank you."

On clear happenstance, Jimmy looked around Britt, not at him. There, standing clearly out from the crowd in his jet black suit, slicked back hair, and walking cane, Lao Yin stared right back at him. He was a snake in the grass, reveling in it, daring Jimmy to see him.

The sounds of celebration vanished. People moved in slow motion. No one else made a show of seeing Lao Yin…was he a vision?!

"L—L—Lao Yin!" Jimmy shook, pointing. "Lao Yin, it's him! It's him!"

Britt spun, "Where?!"

Kato shoved his plate to the table, getting in front of Jimmy, searching the immediate vicinity. Many of those nearby were staring at Jimmy and his outburst. "I don't see him!"

Jimmy gulped, scared whining sounds coming up his throat unbidden, "I saw him! I did…but…he's gone! I don't-." His panic doubled in an instant, "Where's Mary! Where is she? I have to get her. The party's over, we're not-!."

"Hold on, Jimmy." Britt cautioned, "Just…hold on. I'm going to get a hold of Mr. Scanlon."

Kato shared a private look with Britt as he made to leave: _Stay with him_.

"Casey, with me." Britt grabbed her hand, taking her along as he dug through the wholly oblivious partygoers to the farthest roadblock. "Did you see him?" She asked.

"No. I didn't. But that was real terror in Jimmy's face. He fully believed he did."

He retrieved his golden pocket watch. He depressed the stem and fixed the dial. The radio transmitter antenna extended. "Frank?"

A few seconds of scratchy static, then, "Britt?"

"We had a Lao Yin sighting just now. We looked for him afterwards. No signs. Anything on your end?"

"Nothing. I'll send a team in, though?"

"And scare the guests? Exactly what we don't want. Can your boys hit the rooftops for a bird's eye view?"

"Sure, I'll have them-."

A gush of cold sewer smelling air rushed in about them. A new presence exuded behind them, its creeping chill of foreboding freezing both of them.

"Oh no." Casey intoned, clamping down on his forearm. They turned as one, Britt expertly hiding his watch behind his back. The Black Dragon hopped the barricade, forcing them back. Britt automatically pushed Casey behind him on their retreat.

"Well well. A party? And I wasn't invited?"

He was pushing them into the party proper. At last, he was noticed. Screams from the younger women and children at his appearance killed the atmosphere. On cue, several heavies, all marked prominently with a similar black dragon tattoo, hopped in for crowd control.

Britt refused to budge another inch, now at the buffet tables. Casey peered around him, holding on to the back of his jacket, giving the Black Dragon the ugliest glare. With eyes like hers, flashing them was a feat that drew copious amounts of attention. Black Dragon was not immune. He grinned freakishly at her spunk. "Mmmm, a little lily of the valley: beautiful but deadly."

Britt corralled her away from him, moving in a semicircle until Cānglóng was in front of them, and their backs were to the rest of the terrified partygoers. From a football field away, Kato's and Britt's eyes could have locked and they still would have known what the other was thinking. Britt practically shouted with his gaze to stay still! don't move! _you promised me!_ Kato sent back a torrential downpour of fierce resentment at the very idea. And yet didn't move, didn't twitch. Like the rest of the crowd. They too were transfixed in horror as the Black Dragon put moves on Casey, trying to touch her, caress her skin. Her two handed grip on Britt's curled fists kept him from swinging, but his dagger-tipped words were his own: "That's enough."

The rebuttal transformed Cānglóng's appearance from twisted glee to shark eyed depravity. "Yes, Mr. Reid." He responded with clipped frigidity, "That is quite enough."

The Black Dragon spun about, running for the raised dance platform to be his stage. He spread his arms wide, the wings of legend unfurling as sleeves. There was an unnaturalness to his posturing, the calmness he possessed wax covering of the true chaos underneath: here was a self-appointed God come to play among the mortals.

Britt continued hugging Casey to him, his body turned partially to keep hers covered. She willingly held on, trying not to bury herself in him but the warmth he projected staved off the chill of the beast. Still more mental shouting at Kato to stay where he was, stay with Jimmy! Goddmanit, WHERE was Mary-and please God let her stay there-! He brought his still activated watch to bear, capturing for Scanlon's sake, the next moments.

"I wish to give my wedding present to the happy lovers!" The Black Dragon sang. "Behold…my gift to you, Jimmy Kee!"

In the pin dropping silent seconds following this proclamation, Britt's warning bells kickstarted that this was going all sorts of wrong. Casey shimmied against his chest, quivering. An audible though muffled clunk from several different somewheres, shifted the earth underfeet.

The word "BOMB" tumbled out, though no one heard it. No even Britt. He was already taking Casey to the ground with him, shielding her, before the last of it came out of his mouth. A deep rumbling came up through the asphalt; underground thunder rolling closer and closer, louder and louder…

Casey screamed.

Suddenly the ground lurched then _**disappeared**_ from under him, Casey with it. He was flying.

The heart of Chinatown jumped on its foundations as the streets and sidewalks erupted like volcanoes. The equivalent force of magnitude 8.0 earthquake slammed the thoroughfare. Every building, every house, _**every thing**_ exploded in flaming debris. Gas lines blew furious spouts, water lines burst in waterfalls. The collective shockwave mowed outwards like a cannon ball dropped in water. The cacophony blew ear drums.

Britt saw his landing coming up fast, and tried to compensate. No go. He struck the smoking remains of a car head on. The collision was to be as expected: Car—1, Human Body—0.

A loud ringing evaded his unconsciousness until he begrudgingly came to. The first reaction of consciousness ranked as stunned he was still alive. The second reaction: this ringing was coming from his own ears. The third reaction: pushing up on his forearms, pain rippling from top to bottom. A Britt Reidish dent in the scorched body panel of his sedan landing pad was certainly the last straw to that end.

He collapsed again, vomiting.

When he could swallow without it coming back up as bile, Britt tried to move. His mind tripped and stumbled through this next processing phase of trauma. Warm fluid dripped into his eyes. That would be blood, but he dragged a finger through the puddle on his forehead to be sure. There were other people too, about him, like him, and they were screaming but…he couldn't hear them and so—

-The ground was gone. _**Everything was gone-.**_

\- Not just gone: _**obliterated**_. Not far from his feet, a water line stuck out several feet in the air: concussed or not, he knew that was bad

Wanted to stand, had to stand. Move away-his breathing became attention robbing in his uncomprehending scan of the elements. In his mind he heard a skull rattling scream of BOMB, and reacted outwardly with a jolt of terror. More?! Sliding back, bruising his tailbone, he gulped in realization that had been his own voice, that it had been said at some point before

Before. That-that was an important thing: BEFORE.

People screaming, so distant though they were all around.

What should be under was now above ground.

Time and sound abruptly crushed in on him in stereophonic sound, eliciting a sharp cry. His knuckles bled as he scrapped them. He welcomed the pain. It balanced the other aches. The chaos he heard now made the former silence all the more precious.

It made him remember.

A terrorist attack, Cānglóng, Lao Yin- a whole neighborhood wiped off the map, people injured, dead, and dying, and-.

_Casey_

The fragility of the name was like a glass ceiling falling in on him, the shards of realization racking his mind and heart.

"CASEY!" He flung himself to his feet, staggering. "CASEY!" His bellowing was lost in the pandemonium; panicking, frenetic in his searching.

He unwittingly hopscotched into the epicenter of hell.

Or what had been the main artery of Chinatown.

Craters filled with bodies. Burning bodies. Dismembered bodies. Blown apart bodies.

Britt stumbled reflexively, his mind trying to shut down again rather than compute. He dizzily collapsed to his knees, on the verge of breakdown.

What if one of those bodies was Casey?

Another bellow ratcheted up from his diaphragm, his very soul even, her name building on it. It tore from his mouth with abandon.

But it was one of hundreds just like it tearing through the devastation. These voices rose up in howling agony. He was inundated by his doing. He had allowed Black Dragon do this.

_**Him.** _

_**IN HIS CITY.** _

The anger Britt maintained deep within lost its lid. Consumed, the thirst of vengeance was red alive. He found his feet with it; was able to fly over the looming piles of debris and the helpless with it; was able to not care about any of what he was seeing, and not seeing, without qualms. The needy, the ones he swore to guard and protect, were literally reaching out to him and _**he ignored them**_ _._

The whole infrastructure of emergency services for Century City swarmed. The sirens, the phasing of the reds and blues through the haze of smoky horror, stoned Britt in his tracks. He didn't know why the sight of police should have such a reaction. It forced a second look around him, truly taking in the carnage. Then a third look, and a fourth…long looping scans, skin and eyes prickling.

His father described Berlin, 1945 to him once: a burned out husk of a city, reduced to indiscriminate rubble and ruin. The people the same: orb-eyed, rag wearing skeletons. But that had been war. Britt squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders heaving. That had been war! This…. "Oh My God." Eyes sprung open "Oh my God, what have I done?"

A desperate cry of help just feet away in a particular large hole, complete with a cascading ravine of pulverized asphalt and metal, galvanized him. The anger receded, unshackling his vision: he needed to help. What if Casey was the one crying for help? He couldn't-

Britt ran to the craters edge, crouching, peering, "I hear you! Hold on!" Burned debris blocked the way down. He slid haphazardly, jumped the obstacle, tripping and stumbling, but still on his feet. At the center of the crater, he found—

"Jimmy!"

The young man was half buried under three huge slabs of churned asphalt, his face unrecognizable under a mask of agony. There was noticeable pitting in his skin from little pieces of stone and metal. "Mi-Mister Reid!" He strained for freedom, gurgling, yelping. Stuck firm.

"Easy, easy, easy!"

"Gotta…try!"

"No, just—just relax." He examined the slabs, feeling helpless. They were at least several hundred pounds together. He might be able to move one, but not all. "How are you pinned?"

Jimmy screwed up his face again, scrunching his eyes shut, hyperventilating, "Jimmy! You have to breathe normally. I know that's difficult, but you're making it worse if you don't. Just in and out. Just in and out..."

Jimmy nodded jerkily, tears streaming, "Okay…okay…"

The hyperventilating hitched.

"Now. How are you pinned."

"…Leg! My legs! I can't feel them! I can't-! I can't-! My legs! Oh my God! Mary….where's Mary! Uncle-UNCLE!"

Britt shushed him, "Okay, I can see that now." He stripped his jacket to wrap it around his shoulders, "You're going into shock. Keep this around you. I can't move these, but there are people here who can."

Jimmy gulped, whimpering. "Try…try…where are you going?!"

Britt eased his escape. Gently, "I'm going to get help."

"Will—will you come back?"

Thinking of Casey… and yet, those pleading bloodshot eyes…- "I'll come back. Hold on for me!"

Mounting the crater wall, he pounded the shifting surface in a show of athleticism. Panting, Britt realized the terraformed landscape was a wrench in the process for the arriving emergency workers to navigate. Landmarks gone, streets nonexistent, street signs scored like corkscrews or blasted clear of the neighborhood itself. How would he find them if they couldn't find _**here**_? He shrugged disconsolately, cupped his mouth, and drew back his head. His cry for help in freeing a trapped man drew attention from neighboring sites. A verbal chain grew, until a mixed squad of firefighters, police, and paramedics appeared equipment in hand, trudging over the rough terrain. He energetically waved them in, weakened by the relief Jimmy wasn't alone down there anymore.

One of the medics noticed his wounds, and set upon him, "Sir, you've got a nasty head wound."

Britt waved him off, yelling gruffly, "I'm fine!" Gesturing to the crater bottom, "He needs you more!" The medic's associates were hard at work setting up their rescue. The police secured the scene, firefighters set up ladders, portable lanterns, and jury rigged pulley system, while the medics went for the victim himself.

This medic stayed on Britt. A glove fingered probed the bloody fragments of forehead. A penlight brusquely checked his pupil response. "You have signs of a concussion. That needs stitches." The penlight ticked off. "We're setting up triage centers outside the Chinatown limits to stave the burden off the area hospitals much as possible. You should let us take you to one. You need to be checked out."

Britt laid out a frigid look, not meaning to, knowing they all were doing their jobs, "Thank you, but no. Please. Mr. Kee was just married today, okay? Help him, not me."

The medic frowned, peeved, but nodded, "As you wish, sir." He picked up his things to join his colleagues. Britt called out a question on reflex, the words on a spring, "Is it bad?"

The man dropped a grim sideways glance, "I was in Nam for a year. Never thought I'd see what I saw there stateside. This? Worse." Britt hung back after that, absorbing those words.

"Mister Reid! Mi-Mister Reid!" Jimmy's high pitched screams brought him to the crater's edge. "I'm here, Jimmy. "The medic who'd attempted to treat Britt stood to call up at him, "He wants you to come down here, sir." Britt obliged, taking a ladder down to the center. He knelt at Jimmy's head, heart plummeting at the wretchedness of the situation.

"I'm here," he repeated softly. A gnarled hand snatched his. Jimmy sobbed raggedy, "Find Mary. Find her! Please...!"

Britt nodded, though he knew both realized the squishiness of such a possibility. "I'll try. I have to find Ms. Case. We were…separated in the blasts. I'll find Mary for you. I'm sure they're probably together." _Please let that be true._

Jimmy's agitation grew, his grip redoubling, "Kato!" He rasped.

"What?"

" _ **KATO!"**_ Jimmy lost his voice. His cough was phlegmy and hacking. "I—I know where he is!"

Britt's posturing went slack. His mind jogged itself sluggishly to back before the bombings; to where his eyes locked with another across the way, a connection deeply ingrained screaming between them. He went from sitting round shoulder, to forward, gasping. "Oh my God, Kato!"

"Sir! Sir, you need to sit down." The insistent medic was back, judging his worsening condition as wholly physical, "You have a head injury-you need-!"

Britt disregarded him, urgently returning to Jimmy's side. "Where is he? Tell me!"

Jimmy shook, sobbing again, "So you can die too?! Take the police with you—do that much for yourself, please! I beg you!"

"Jimmy, you're not making sense!"

"Cānglóng!" he cried at last. "He went after Cānglóng!"

Britt stared, chilled by the very idea he'd left his friend alone this long with that monster. "WHERE!"

"Buddhist Temple. I saw them-I saw them running in that direction. I don't know what happened after that, the blasts…" His voice trailed off. He abandoned Jimmy's side the instant he had a location. Jimmy screamed after him, "This is not your fault! So many are dead now, you can't be among them! That is not your destiny…or punishment! "

He looked back on the young man solemnly, "It is my fault. I'll live with this the rest of my life. I can't lose Kato too. …I'm sorry, Jimmy." Climbing the nearest ladder out of the hole induced a wicked case of vertigo. His stumble off the top rung was almost another nosedive into the dirt. He crouch ran until equilibrium stabilized.

First Casey, now Kato. Dear God, what if they were both dead? How could he ever-

"Britt! BRITT!"

He staggered backwards as his balance left him again. Frank Scanlon was clambering across the terraformed scape, flanked by several uniforms. Britt met him half way. The DA held his usually resolute younger friend up in their back pounding embrace.

"Thank God! I thought-those explosions. And then I saw the devastation-! What the hell happened?!" Britt held onto Frank a moment longer, thankful for something steady to hang on. "Black Dragon. I dunno, it came from underground. Like…a volcano erupted, or…I dunno. Casey…Kato…we got separated. I-"

He couldn't finish, growing red at his stuttering. Frank's hand snaked to the back of Britt's neck in a fatherly touch. "I'm taking you to a triage center. We're setting them up now. You need it. "

Britt's temper flared, out of frustration and the unbearable pounding of his head. "I have to find them first! Kato-he's—he's with Black Dragon now! I can't leave him to that!"

The police escort shifted in unanimous embarrassment over the emotional response. Scanlon swept a subtle, settling look side to side, telling them to cool it. His return gaze on Britt was heavy with implied meaning and understanding. The destruction of Chinatown was on his shoulders too.

"Killing yourself won't fix this." He consoled _._ Britt loomed in his personal space, "No, I can't fix any of this—but I could have, before! And I didn't—I got so caught up in-in the bullshit…and protecting Kato… that I stopped thinking about everyone else. I failed everyone else here-but not Kato, and not Casey. I won't—I can't. They're all I have."

"…What about me, Britt?"

"Just get out of my way."

Scanlon snatched his arm, keeping him in place. "Cānglóng will kill you. What if Kato's already dead? You'd just be walking in to the slaughter!"

"Let me go, Frank."

"Goddamn it, you're not listening-!"

 _**"** _ _**Because I don't have time!"** _

"Both of you are hurt." Scanlon stressed. He hovered in close to Britt, dropping his voice to a rough whisper, "You're Britt Reid! Not the Green Hornet—not right now. And you're certainly not Superman—neither one of you."

Britt collared Scanlon with the same back- of- the-neck-cupping gesture. In his periphery, the officers tensed. He dropped to the same whisper, "I'll be whoever I have to be to keep my family safe."

Scanlon huffed, the lawyer in him ready to bullshit and defend his position; the concerned friend failing and knowing it. His turmoil was clear, "I can't stop you. I know I can't. But don't…think for one minute…this city deserves your death—that * _ **you**_ * deserve this. We can make this son of a bitch pay without it. So…" He tore off his glasses, fiercely sentimental, eyes flashing, "Don't make Casey a widow before you've even had a chance to love her…and don't make me bury you. Swear that!"

Britt's hold instantly liquefied into affection yet he returned the ferocity without promising, "Find Casey, Frank. FIND HER. And Mary too…"

Scanlon was already shaking his head, refusing to listen if Britt wouldn't do the same for him"—Promise me, Britt-!"

"- _ **Frank**_!—" Britt admonished heartily, silencing him. " _Find them for me_. That's all I'm asking."

Scanlon recognized the wrestling match of emotion fleeting across his grieving friend's face, with no way to verbalize even half of them. He understood, "Of course. I'll find them…. Go."

Releasing his hold, backpeddling; brows furrowed, aquamarine eyes quickly losing the warmth of Britt Reid: The Green Hornet walked among them now. "Take care of yourself, Frank. Don't wait up for me."

He tripped off at a gallop, leaping whole swaths of damage and debris, pushing himself to the physical limits. Around him, buildings collapsed from the strain placed on them by the bombings. Renewed screams of pained terror and anguish rose up as more victims were claimed. He blinded and deafened himself to them. Instead of a warzone, the sea of emergency lights and sirens painted the devastation as some absurd circus. His wounded psyche chittered cheerfully at the idea, ' _Here ye, here ye folks, step right up! Welcome to Death Under the Big Top!'_

His tunnel vision focus momentarily went out. His feet tangled in themselves and the rubble. He spread-eagled his landing, cutting open his chin and brushburning his palms and knees. Dazed and on the edge of passing out again, Britt picked his head up to find he was nearly at the Temple. Flames abutted the building, black smoke puffing from twisted gas lines spewing orange guts. The antiqued structure was especially unstable, its construction not up to modern par. Cracks spiderwebbed the walls, widening with the passing seconds.

Britt screwed up his face to shove off the ground with an inch of the usual panther-esque grace. He danced through a group of dizzied party goers, each bloodier and dirtier as the last. He didn't recognize any of them. They begged him to stay away from the temple, that it was going to collapse any time now.

He tended to believe them, lingering at the threshold.

A spine tingling scream erupted from within, slicing the air and him.

Laguna Beach flashed through his mind.

The automatic response trigger ignited.

"KATO!"

Britt rushed the temple doors, kicking them in. Immediately overwhelmed by the lack of oxygen, and the peasoup churning his lungs and stomach, he pushed on, gaining his bearings with scorched eyes. He was in the middle of what had been the grand hall way. He'd watched the Black Dragon almost kill Kato from this very spot just days ago. Now, a jagged crack down to the foundation ran from left to right and up the walls, separating the foyer in two pieces. The grand stairway Cānglóng had pushed Kato down was mismatched, the stairs smudged several inches higher in some places than the rest. A new fun house for this circus…

He jumped the crack, searching for signs of Kato. He wondered how steady the second floor was. Judging by the first, he sincerely didn't want to risk it.

"KATO!"

A section of the tile roof caved in above him. He ducked away in avoidance. Daylight streamed in with feigned innocence. Disintegrating around him… Not good. "KATO, WHERE ARE YOU!"

An ominous flickering grew in corners: the fire was spreading.

Another bone chilling scream.

From the second floor balcony, railings splintered, snapping like twigs. A body tumbled amidst the falling timbers. At the last possible moment, the jumper cartwheeled to a crouched landing. Nevertheless, this landing was not easy, and twisted an ankle. A muted cry and the immediate hunching to clutch at the sprain—"Kato!".

His tattered white tunic was now gray, the left side highlighted in red. His face was a 50-50 mess of the same. He was barefoot, his cotton pants cinched tightly at his feet. He very evidently favored his wounded side, which Britt picked up on instantly.

"No…don't touch it. It's torn open again…"

Britt hugged him tightly. Kato pushed away gently, but Britt wouldn't let go. He kept him close, holding him in with an arm across his shoulders. "We're going. This is over."

"No, * **you** * have to go!"

"Chinatown is leveled! How can I walk away from that—from you? No running, remember?"

"Your life means more to me than any of this! GO!"

"The pot calling the kettle black, Kato. I thought I made myself clear: I'm not losing you. So, I'm not leaving-!"

"-Touching…Mr. Reid…" Cānglóng appeared at the splintered railings, looking none worse for wear except for his bandaged hand. He jumped straight down. His black trench coat flared as wings that folded the moment he touched down. Immediately, he was in motion, gliding into their path. "…Or is it the Green Hornet? Who do I have the pleasure of killing tonight?

Britt took up position in front of Kato, shielding him; containing him with an outstretched arm. His fists curled, chest heaving with adrenaline pushing for a fight; rigidly undercut by the acknowledgment of their alteregos. "That's not the question you should be asking."

"You are not surprised?"

"Still not the question."

Kato pulled at him, "Don't. Just go. I'll handle this."

"No, you've done enough. HE'S done enough." Britt's face melded into the harsh wintering of the Green Hornet. "IT'S MY TURN!" He sprung, surprising Cānglóng with his speed and power. He put the offender literally _**into**_ the floor, shattering a new bodily impression.

How much easier this was without the Hornet outfit weighing him down: without the mask and hat, his field of vision expanded into infinity; without the coat and scarf, he was uninhibited; without the gloves, skin and muscle yielded under his blows like molding clay.

He was a hulking punching machine throwing blows milliseconds apart. Lost himself in the rhythm of beating a man to death.

Kato grounded his raving, tearing him free. He pushed his tortured friend into a pillar, holding him there. "Britt…BRITT!." Their gazes wouldn't lock because he refused to see Kato, stuck instead on the bundled figure faintly moving beyond them.

Cānglóng dragged to his feet, a hunk of meat more than man. His creepy bareteethed smile never left his face. Under the sheen of his beating, the dragon tattoo danced.

The mythical Black Dragon effortlessly took flight, boring down on the two. Britt tried to throw Kato free of impact but he couldn't be thrown, resolutely standing to protect Britt. The collective force of all three bodily slamming the pillar unmoored the shattered beam. Excruciatingly long winded groaning creaks preceded the wild yawning of the pillar on its way down. The roof followed.

All rolled in different directions away from the cave-in. Britt rapidly crawled for Kato, whose open side was leaving a stark red smear on his retreat. He snatched him by the tunic and hauled ass for a crouching run, shoving his friend in front of him, "GO! RUN! STAIRS, STAIRS!"

Cānglóng stubbornly reappeared, trench coach swirling around his ankles. Britt planted himself to give Kato a chance to climb out, an opportunity he refused to take. Britt attacked ferociously with a left uppercut to the chin, cleanly snapping the neck about, to no effect. He adjoined it with a front stomping kick to the knees. When Cānglóng buckled, Britt swooped in. The body slam didn't even get a gasp out of the Dragon. This passivity ended swiftly. Cānglóng twisted the roles and position to pinning Britt. Britt tightened his abdominal muscles to kick up and out, breaking the hold. He pivoted on his knees on the way to his feet to face him again. Cānglóng stood back, watching, waiting. His posturing was loose and flowing, eerily similar to Kato's.

Speaking of whom… Kato boomeranged into the fit with a throat wrenching scream. He piston- punched Cānglóng in the face at least ten times before finishing with a through-and-through sidekick.

"I thought I told you to get out of here!" Britt hauled Cānglóng up by his coat to launch him like a javelin.

"You won't, I won't." He met the Black Dragon with a round of head shots, jumping up and coming directly down with an elbow to the collarbone. Right behind him, Britt stepped up to deliver a crushing haymaker to head as Cānglóng went down.

A knee jerk decision had him catching the Black Dragon on his knees, securing his chokehold. His bicep swelled, crushing windpipe and cartilage. The kung fu man finally showed some humanity with wholly valiant human struggling.

"Not…so big…now…ARE YOU!" Britt spat out. "Told you: MY TURN."

"Britt, you're going to kill him!"

He glared up at Kato as he fought against the struggle, "Point being? He just killed how many people out there? Maybe even Casey! Or Mary. Or Uncle! He'd kill you in a second! Besides that—he KNOWS!"

"You. Don't. Kill."

"* _ **I didn't**_ *, you mean. Until now. Believe me." He tightened his hold, eyes flashing, "This is an exception I can make."

" _ **I**_ can't." Kato shifted weakly in place "You're better than that. _**I**_ _**taught you**_ better than that."

Britt's resolve faded a bit as he felt the Black Dragon's rasping struggle wane. "If I let him go…this is the end." His voice thickened with emotion. "Can _**you**_ live with _***that***_ **.** "

Kato's eyes deadened, "I won't have to. Neither will you. Let him go."

He stared, "I told you: you...don't get to decide that." His body shook with mortified dismay, "YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE THAT!"

"And I said I already have blood on my hands; that I would never allow that for you."

Britt considered this, biting his lower lip hard enough to cut, his gaze murderous. The decision, however, was never in his hands. In this moment, both lost sight of the fact their enemy was not usual, and his unusualness could not be underestimated. He reared to life with terrifying subhumanity. A chakram slid from his sleeve into his hand. He drove it into the muscle suffocating him. Britt cried out, his left arm instantly useless. The teeth ripped the fibers into pulp, blanketing his face and Black Dragon's with a puff of pink mist. The chakram was leverage over the bigger target, hefting himself up in painful about face.

Kato yelled, charging. He was met with a bruising hold on his throat, lifting him clear off his feet. Black Dragon hissed, drawing in his arm to savor Kato's squirming. The blows he leveled for freedom had no effect. Cānglóng launched his counterpart into the crackling flames. As petty as it felt, Britt used this distraction to his advantage, backhanding Cānglóng with his right. Freed, the blade still in his upper arm, Britt leaped into the flames after Kato. He found him face down, groaning. "I like your idea of handling this…" He lifted Kato in a fireman's carry, just to get him out of there. Kato slid off his back to his feet, leaning into his friend for support. "Your ankle?"

Kato grimaced, "Among other things."

"Then go! Before it's too late!"

As if on cue, another section of the roof caved in. The walls shuddered and shifted. Another gas line blew, spewing its contents directly into the temple, a breach that created a wall of flame that cut off the escape points. Hellfire framed the Black Dragon.

"Shit!"

Kato grabbed his arm, bracing him, "No running."

Britt nodded grimly.

"Don't let him near you with those blades. Keep him at arm's length. Let me do the heavy stuff."

"No, not with your side and your ankle!"

"-DON'T ARGUE!"

"-KATO-!"

He was already running for Cānglóng , airborne a second later, in one of his most impressive flying sidekicks. Black Dragon's head snapped back, whole body elongating under the force. Kato landed on top of him, performing a macabre dance on his face and torso. In true inhuman form, he flipped Kato loose. Britt entered the fray, pounding the Black Dragon with his indomitable right. He curb-stomped Cānglóng in the chest, audibly breaking a rib. Kato returned, winded, employing moves Britt had never seen before.

His Way.

This brought inordinate pleasure to Cānglóng, who gleefully matching these moves. Soon it was too fast for Britt to track. The whole sequence took on a dizzying disorientation. Every rule of thumb Kato ever taught him about looking beyond the combat to see the true depth of skill and speed, to tap into that awareness and use it, had no play here. And that terrified him.

"Kato, get out of there! It's too much!"

Britt moved in, hoping to trip Cānglóng up. Instead he got a fist in the nose. Cartilage cracked under a spurt of blood. He grabbed at his nose, thrown off. Consequently, Kato was tossed free of the in-fighting with a vicious kick to the diaphragm. On his knees, he spat a mouthful of blood, gagging. Britt wiped his nose, snarling, "Son of a bitch! Fuck it!"

Instead of remaining at arm's length, he got in close and highly personal with the Black Dragon, bringing to bear the full might of the Green Hornet.

Kato rolled to his stomach, hands under him, to witnessed Britt's attempt against Cānglóng. At all times, Britt masterfully kept up with him, doing everything Kato ever taught him. But he never led; never had Cānglóng on the run. Never a step ahead, just _**in**_ step.

"Ughnnn. N—no! Britt—no!" He shoved off the floor, tripping forward in a run. He bearhugged his compatriot from the side, tackling him out of the fight. The rolled together, Kato struggling to come up first. Britt grappled to keep him down.

"No-no, Kato-Stay down, stay down! I got him! KATO, DAMNIT, STAY DOWN."

Kato punched him, forcing the blunt realization that it had been Kato who'd hit him in the nose before, not Cānglóng. He won, jumping over Britt to yield the incoming Cānglóng, now armed with a chakram in each hand. He played with them in between nimble fingers.

Britt reacted to the void Kato's leap over him left, and rolled hard about to grab at his feet, taking him down. He in turn rushed Cānglóng. Simultaneously, Kato lurched to his feet, sliding in between the two men to shield his friend. He disarmed one of the chakram with smart use of a pressure point in between the thumb and pointer finger. The other was still in play. He yanked his stomach in to miss one swipe. He blocked another, swiping a cuffing blow to an ear, popping an eardrum. Cānglóng spun out of the entanglement, cutting an X in the air. Kato caught the right diagonal slash, his pectoral split open. On impulse, still staggering back, he karate chopped the weapon into the flames. Britt yelled angrily, grabbing Kato by the shoulders to spin him away from the danger. In the seconds it took to twist Kato like a dreidel and turn back to fight, the Black Dragon was ready.

They were at his mercy.

His _**mercilessness.**_

He yanked the blade still embedded in Britt's bicep free, tissue dangling. The publisher stumbled on the release, growling at the fiery gush. Cānglóng automatically capitalized on this new rush of forward momentum.

The moist sound of toothed steel chewing into Britt's chest dulled both partner's senses. Britt's eyes widened in stark recognition he'd been stabbed, his mouth agape in the same shock. Kato's enraged Chinese bunched into incoherent babble. Neck muscles corded, face pinched in horror.

The chakram pulled out once, hovering between them like a spectral promise. Cānglóng laughed. As he had done to Kato, he did now to Britt: purposefully pummeling his chest with a quick series of knife handed blows, the blade working its dirty job. Kato would remember the sound above any other in his life: _eating …the blade was eating, chomping soppily, his friend alive._

Britt choked, coughed, grabbing at Cānglóng's arms about him, sagging, falling desperate for relief. The pressure against his heart was unbearable. The life light in his eyes faded with the growing sea of red across his shirt. Getting shot was preferable; that was hot pain, pain that reminded one was alive—this was _**cold.**_

Their faces were inches apart. Black Dragon's breath like that of his namesake's. His feral smile flared, "This _**is**_ the end, Green Hornet…! Everything, _**everyone**_ you have ever loved…ever worked for…ever sacrifice for… _ **dies**_ with you. Kato will join you shortly. If your lovely lady lives…I will find her. I will tell her how you died. And then I will slit her throat. Your District Attorney friend will be the last…I'll drag every shred of information on your ventures out of him until he begs for mercy…and then I'll slit _**his**_ throat. Your memory, _**your legacy**_ …will be written in the blood of the people and the city _**you failed**_."

A final strike brutally buried the blade knuckle deep, " _ **I said I would break you: I. WIN**_."

Britt collapsed on the breeze of Cānglóng's coat tails. His crumpling invoked a doom that crushed Kato's own heart. The soupy trickling creep of blood across tile turned his world upside down in nightmarishly chilling defeat: what he'd so fought and bled against come to pass anyway.

He crawled to his dying friend as Cānglóng swept away from them into the fires, untouched and unconcerned by the flames. He slowly faced Kato's hatred filled stare after him, serenely at ease, " _Zhǎo wǒ!_ FIND ME! _"_ The exposed gas line arched roaring heat. He vanished in its swallow.

Seething, the old taunt drawing huffing heavy breaths, he ripped Britt's shirt from his body, balling it up for a compress. So much blood...

"Britt. Britt, can you hear me?" The ticking of fire consuming the temple, weakening the already condemned construction to the point of collapse, quickened his panic. "BRITT! YOU STUPID IDIOT...!"

A twitch of response. Eyelids fluttering. Scarlet streams drained viscously from his mouth. His body arched in its writhing, fearful of this fight for each breath. The gurgling wheeze that came out instead murdered Kato a little more. "Damn it, no! You're not bleeding out on me…YOU'RE NOT BLEEDING OUT ON ME. Relax, relax…I've got you, I've got you."

The shirt was completely sodden, staining his hands.

The weight of his laboring poured out in pink foamy bubbles. He was drowning in his own blood. Kato tried to roll him to his side for relief. Britt latched on to him, both hands grinding into bone. His gaze implored silently, peacefully, ' _No. Don't.'_

"No…nonononono. Do not give up!"

The aqua eyes glazed. The smallest of smiles, the firmest of nods. Kato scrambled, tears streaming unbidden. "DON'T. BRITT. STOP. Lookatme. Lookatme. Don't-." His voice hitched. "Don't close your eyes. Please…"

The inferno blazed, a beast in its own right. The air churned. Time slowed, holding on to the moment… Britt Reid stopped fighting for his life.

The building rumbled its final swan song about them. Kato sucked in a lungful of acridity, yelled for the sake of yelling, drawing himself up as he hunched over the body. His hands wriggled under the back. He made himself not slip in the gruesome pool at his feet.

The imminent collapsed accompanied by bellowing calls of people still trapped inside had brought a rescue crew to the threshold. Despite the urgency, time was not on their side. It would be impossible to get in and out before it all came down on their heads. Imagine their shock when, at the last possible second, figures clambered from the ruins. One slight man improbably carried a much larger man, both suffering from injuries that were progressively worse between them. They crushed in on the duo, assisting the slighter victim in lowering his friend into the rubble, away from the belching gas lines. Equipment bags and a stretcher stacked a barrier around the group.

Kato knelt over his friend, holding on to him, hand resting just below the open wound. The golden Adonis sculpturing of his torso flushed a horrid white and crimson, features ashen. The paramedics tried to approach him and his wounds. He refused. Before he was pushed out by their efforts on Britt, Kato leaned in to whisper fervently, "Survive! One of us has to."

And then he too vanished back inside the fallen temple. Police went after him, or tried to. It collapsed in a ring of fire.


	10. I See Fire, Blood in the Breeze

_Find me_

Falling straight down, no chance for stopping. The whistling air fanned the fiery tendrils wafting from his back. When he hit solid ground, he immediately rolled. He griped at the smell of singed fleshed, huffing painfully when he was sure he'd smothered the flames completely. The tunic no longer served its purpose. He tore it from his body, tossing it away out of spite for himself.

At last he took stock of the surroundings: black and dense but sufficient in clean air. His fingers wiggled into soft, rich soil. He sifted a handful. Mingling bodily fluids created an unintentional mud mask over his naked torso.

The sudden thunderous collapse of above shook him and the cavern. He hunkered down, tendrils of smoke and trailing embers still rising from his own body as hot steamy air blasted him. Heavy clouds of black smoke blanketed as high as the ceiling. The hole that he'd come through, as had the Black Dragon before him, filled in: trapped.

_Find me_.

He rocked to sitting up, the crunching motion of this ripping tenderized flesh up and down his side. He felt a rib move with a twinge of equally hot pain. He rose with the little fluidity he could muster.

_Find me._

His landing place was obviously underground. Most importantly, it was directly below the foundation of the now-defunct temple.

Chinatown itself had been built with an extensive set of underground tunnels to match those of the surrounding city. Tunnels that were built to multipurpose: secret meeting places, storage, time capsules. For whatever reason, the founding fathers had found them necessary, as had the founding Chinese community. They crossed the entire city, several miles underground at some points, each meeting up with another.

The absolute den for dâ zhàng.

Kato blinked rapidly, harrowing thoughts boomeranging, stringing it all together now.

_Find me_.

A Dragon is most at home in his dirt …

_Find me_.

Kato took his next steps with care, the curves of his musculature sharpening.

_A different kind of Room…same set of rules_ …

"Lo Sing!" He called, voice traveling far. On near voice command, the electric lanterns that were strung high as far as the eye could see flickered on. Kato tensed for an attack. None came. He blinked with this new light, continuing on, heel to toe. "You traded one prison for another! Still the rat running for the darkness once the light is turned on!"

He reached a four way, and stopped in the crossroads, waiting for a sign; reached out with all his senses. Sinisterly dripping laughter came at him from all sides. He spun in place, staggering about. His spine crawled with his skin. A voice covered in the same delicious evil crawled around him like a cold cemetery wind, "Is he dead?"

Kato looked to the ceiling for reference, seething quietly, "No. He'll survive. One of us has to. To make sure you don't."

More wicked cackling, "The Red Dragon is _**ascendant**_! Only took destroying the lying image you have built up for the last 14 years…"

"Take away the tattoo, the false godhood…You're still Lo Sing!"

Real wind swept about him. Black Dragon appeared in a swirl of black, blankly menacing. "Lo Sing is  _ **dead**_. He _**was**_  a rat just racing time for his piece of cheese. I _**am**_  the Enlightenment! And this," he raised his arms, sleeves billowing, "Is my domain to illuminate."

Kato charged, pounding through the pain screaming in his side to stop. He leaped in a sidekick, sliding smoothly through the air at head level.

He hit rock face instead of body. The Black Dragon vanished like a ghost just as Kato's foot connected. He cracked a wide cleavage in the wall instead, big black splotches rearing across his field of vision. He fumed, whipping blood out of his eyes and mouth, flopping to his stomach. His fingers gouged deep as he clawed his way to his feet.

Black Dragon's essence cascaded through the tunnel, "Lao Yin will destroy the memory of the men you and Britt Reid were in life, and I will destroy the myth in death." The phantom stench of fresh blood permeated. _Britt's blood_ …"There is no escape, Hayashi Kato…no running. No rich white man to save you. "

Ignoring the taunts, "We are not alone in this fight. You won't have the peace of victory!"

Cānglóng 's sneer reverberated, "Of course I will. This city will be begging for mercy by nightfall. For me to mold at my will—a true dynasty of dâ zhàng unlike anything the world has ever seen. _ **A whole city dedicated to the art!**_  Everything you…Reid…and the Daily Sentinel stood for:  _ **blown away**_."

He reappeared, starkly blazoned in hues of red and black, to throw a small remote in a high arch between them. From Kato's time as the Green Hornet's companion, he knew a detonator when he saw one. This one could only mean be more devastation for them personally. He lunged for the catch.

Only, again, his quarry vanished into thin air, this time with a shimmering effect, like…

... _Like smoke in mirrors_ …

Kato landed hard on his stomach, just a bunch of nothing in his fist. He bolted from the dirt, blood thrumming hot and ready. "How many more have to die? How many more…when it's me you wanted! I'M HERE. LEAVE THEM."

"YOU SHOULD HAVE ASKED YOURSELF THAT A LONG TIME AGO." The vengeance in this disembodied scream rattled loose crumbs of debris. " _ **You**_ …gave up your heritage, your home. _**You**_  gave up your _**right**_  to ask that when you abandoned your destiny. NOW I HAVE IT ALL! …And there's no room for men like you anymore." Somewhere, in this tunnel or the next, a chakram was pulled for emphasis. Its metallic song had wings on it.

"No." Kato agreed with grim solemnity, "No, there's not."

A new cloud of white billowing smoke trickled in about his feet. The lights went out all at once. The cloud became a mist, enveloping like a soft warm blanket. Kato instinctively knew he should not breathe it, should have no part of it, but it was too late. The mist evaded him completely. It tickled his nose, numbed his skin…weighed down his limbs as if the muscles and bones had evaporated. He felt his senses dimming; only to then explode into terrifyingly excruciating hyperactivity. He yelled as he fell to his knees. Solid rock became squishy quicksand, sucking him in.

Pure palpable terror reached out to throttle him. His mind rapidly twisted in on itself at this caricature of reality. The last words he'd remember came from the abyss, demonic in their growl. They sealed a fate he'd cheated once before:

" _Nǐ huóle xiàlái yīgè fángjiān de jìngzi. Nǐ jiāng wúfǎ shēngcún wǒ de..._ You survived one Room of Mirrors, Hayashi Kato. You will not survive mine. "

* * *

 

_**7:00pm** _

_**Daily Sentinel City Room** _

Chaos. Phones ringing off the hooks, papers fluttering from desks on the breezes made by rushing bodies, raised voices crisscrossing as conflicting reports hit the wires. Gunnigan manned two phones, talking into both, and screaming orders over shoulder at the same time. He'd lost his tie sometime in the last 3 hours, a few buttons too. He'd lose his sanity any minute now, if:

"CAN ANYONE TELL ME WHERE IN THE HELL MICHAEL AXFORD IS?"

He slammed both phones, rocketing his roller chair back into the desk behind him to grab at the scribbled notes he'd left there, except they're gone, his wheels tangled in phone cords and, "GODDAMNIT, I NEED AXFORD!"

"Here he is, sir!"

Axford flew past his announced arrival, the ruckus of his bewildered colleagues of just vague interest to him. His desk was what he wanted. He slammed into the seat, pulling open draws and pawing tabletop in earnest. Gunnigan stomped up behind him, dizzily yanking his chair about-face, "Where the devil have you been?! I have been yay deep in this bullshit for the last three hours without any help,  _ **Mr. Senior Reporter**_ , so-!"

Axford snatched his hand from his main cabinet with a handful of bound manuscript. His other suddenly had ahold of Gunnigan's collar, grappling with the man to drag him, yelling and swearing, into Britt's office.

Even with two rooms, several inches of glass, and wooden frame between them, the city room without was bathed with Gunnigan's ire, dimming the hubbub noticeably.

"You crazy, red blooded Irishman-! The hell are you DOING?! THIS IS A CRISIS, OR HAVEN'T YOU NOTICED?!"

Axford was speechless, but not for the usual counter assault. Gunnigan had finally blown his top enough to realize Axford was too overcome to speak. "…Whuh? What's the matter with you?"

Axford made several large gestures, trying to fill the space of the office, "I—I was at the precinct…tryna get the facts'n…"

"Your accent's about two feet thick, man! Calm down."

Axford gaped at him, as if his demands were asinine at the very least, ludicrous at worst. "Calm down." He intoned breathlessly. "Calm down…" Gunnigan pursued his lips, ready to burst again. "Don't have time for your bumbling, Axford…!"

Slumping in his posture, Axford rubbed eyes deep into their sockets to grit out, " _ **Time**_ : we don't have any  _ **left**_ …! Not for secrets, not for lies…none of it!"

"Damn it man! Out with it! What do you know?!"

Axford peered through his fingers at Gunnigan. He made no attempt to hide his tears. "It was Jimmy Kee's wedding today…" He mumbled softly, "Center of Chinatown, full of people celebrating…

The Chief Editor stared, "The explosions…?"

Axford covered his mouth, trying to process his next sentence. "…I dunno how ta say this, so I'm gunna say it straight: …Britt, Casey, Kato: all three of them were down there. All of 'em: right in the bloody goddamn middle of it."

Gunnigan searched for a hard surface to sit on, nearly ending up on the floor. He was a fish out of water, mouth forming words but going no farther. When he found the words, he couldn't say them.

"… they're keeping people away from there, press included, but some of the boys that were with the DA talked ta me. All they know…is that Britt survived the blasts...I dunno about Casey, I don't even wanna think about it … The boys said they saw him arguing with Scanlon, that he was hurt pretty bad…his head banged up, but he was **_alive_**!"

Gunnigan brightened briefly on the hope that statement offered, but had that hope epically flame out when Axford added, "But then he ran off like a bat outta hell soon enough, and they don't know what happened to him after that…Scanlon ain't talking, busy down at the triage tents. A lotta the buildings are collapsing too… and…and I mean, it's possible…."

Gunnigan scoffed in self-agonizing frustration, " _ **Damn it**_!"

Axford got to his feet, trying to put his face right, "I came back to tell you…I'm going in there. I'm going to find him and Casey."

"Mike! You can't! You said it yourself, they're keeping people away!"

"I have to."

"…Crazy old coot! I need you here—I can't run this show by myself." He pointed enthusiastically out the office windows, "Those people are falling apart when I need them the strongest! You're the senior reporter of the entire corps! You owe them your back!"

Axford was stoic, "They need Britt. They want _**him**_. He's the fearless leader, the one to get them going when all they want to do is run to their own families! Not us. I'll get 'em. Just give me the word."

"Me? Word—? …Axford, you're nuts-!"

"You're 'n charge now. So I'm asking ya: let me go down to Chinatown and find Britt and Casey, Kato if I can.">

"You're asking?! When the hell did you ever care what I said?"

Axford wavered, the manuscript wrinkling in his grasp, "Because I'm _**scared**_ …Gunnigan. Mmscared of what I'm gonna find if I do go down there. If you send me as a reporter, I could do it. Otherwise..."

Gunnigan swallowed, sucked on his upper lip, tasting the sweat budding there. "Yeah…yeah, okay." His eyes scrunched, imaging the worst, "Go. Find them."

The crumpled tome passed between them, Gunnigan juggling its hand off, "Take this" Axford said. "Read it, all of it. Then publish it. The whole thing, as is. Leave nothing out. Take up the whole damn paper if you have to, but get it out there! We're gonna get some payback if it kills us…"

The editor looked over the words, the type set, its phrasing, even down to the handwritten notes in the margins, "…I don't get it."

Axford unlocked the door, jamming his hat over his ears with egress, "You will."

Gunnigan remained seated, peering at nothing in particular. He snapped out of it with a heavy sigh to stand and shake Axford's hand. The only sign of truce there would ever be between them, "Hey," he grumbled softly, "Good luck. And call, alright? Like more than zero times?"

Axford accepted the gesture, allowing himself a weary half smile. "Yeah. Sure."

* * *

 

In the streets below, the city was driving as one from the heart of the disaster, bumper to bumper, groceries stacked for the long haul in more than a few backseats. All wanted to get home just so they could hug their families a little tighter.

When, in their review mirrors, the disaster was suddenly right where they'd just come from.

Some ran the curbs, crashing into fire hydrants; or telephone poles, live wires sparking over hood; or pedestrians too dumbstruck themselves to get out of the way… just as chucks of stone and concrete rained down like bowling balls. The explosions rolled over the street as its earlier counterparts had. Those able scrambled for cover.

Those not just stared blankly at the inferno scarring the skyline. Axford was among them, his cheek and forehead gashed open. He'd made it out of the parking lot just before the first blasts rocked the building. His blood dripped to his shoe tops unnoticed. He was numb.

The Daily Sentinel was on fire. Her skin ripped open, crumbling. Debris swirled around her like a dirty black skirt.

He and the others held on to that image, praying it was just a horrible hallucination.

Until she exploded again.

* * *

 

_**7:30 pm** _

_**Triage Tent Alpha** _

_**5 miles from Chinatown Main** _

Panic. Fear. Scanlon was caught up in the surging wave of humanity trying to run from it. Their screams were not so much in agony this time, but in cruel acceptance. Their world had been bombed to hell once just hours ago, and now it was happening again.

Scanlon grunted at his near trampling. He caught a flap of the tent for anchoring and swung to the outside to let the mass drain past him. He followed their path, every one of them coming to a standstill at the edge of the encampment. Police officers with radios glued to their ears ran for their patrol cars. Those wallowing, boatish Dodge Coronados whipped about with lights and sirens blaring, heading for the city proper.

Scanlon's heart plummeted with the next round of distant explosions. Their strength was undiminished by the distance, as light shaking hit the tent and its occupants. Doctors and their nurses strove to abate the terror rising in their patients at these rolling reports.

The new black smudge on the cityscape's horizon grew in size with each boom. A splotch of orange swirled in its depths, reaching like a finger high into the twilight. It was so awfully close to the---

"My God," he breathed, covering his mouth. "God in Heaven, _**no**_ …!" Scanlon escaped back in to the tent, pushing through the tide of staff and patient, looking for his Sergeant

"Sergeant Drake!" he called out, drawing the attention of the squarely built senior officer. He always took Tom Drake with him on field calls because the Irishman was no-nonsense and stridently cool under pressure.

But here and now, Scanlon pulled up short at the bleakness in the man's gray gaze as he absorbed the excited chatter over his radio, nodding every so often; muttering affirmations. When he saw Scanlon watching him, he affixed his uniform's cap to the proper angle and tried for completely business-like. "Sorry, Counselor…gotta pull my men. Need to head back to the city. All hands on deck for this one."

He moved to push past, but Scanlon stopped him. "Tom," he pressed. "Don't hide it…I can see it on your face. I saw the smoke and the fire …It's the Daily Sentinel. Isn't it."

Drake pulled back, wrapping the tough beatcop exterior around him. Another deep rumble coursed underfeet. They both turned to look, tuning into the gasping exclamations outside.

"Oh god, not again! Why?!"

"…Keep hitting us…!"

Drake shuddered, tipping his cap back to scratch his forehead. He was loathed to look this man in the eye, knowing how much Britt Reid meant to him; knowing he and his men had spent the last few hours searching for Britt Reid and his companions, alive or dead, on Scanlon's command, only to come up empty; knowing Scanlon knew more than he was telling, that it was tearing his guts up inside, that he somehow felt responsible. To put more on his shoulders just didn't seem fair… "Yessir, it's the Daily Sentinel. She's partially collapsed. Unknown casualties, lotsa injury. …Mmsorry."

A shot in the dark that squarely hit its mark; Scanlon folded in on himself. The final nail in their coffin. "Dear God," he managed weakly. "Axford…! All those people…"

"I can't keep my men out lookin' for Mr. Reid and his friends, Counselor. They need everybody available on scene. If—if I can possibly spare some of them once we get there, I'll send them back."

Scanlon didn't hear his sympathetic promise. He was too busy taking in the hurried pace of the tent, of seeing doctors changing blood soaked gloves, of their calling for more morphine, wrapping bandages as they soothed these hurt worried faces. They weren't listening to the explosions. They refused to hear them, refused to think of how many more were dead or dying.

But he was. He had to. Britt's last words, _Take care of yourself, Frank. Don't wait up for me…_

_How could you think I wouldn't, Britt? How could you think that?Take care of myself? I can't even protect you, your life's work…!_

"…Counselor? Mr. Scanlon!" Drake shaking hold on his forearm brought him out of it. "Sir! I have to go now. You'll be alright?"

Scanlon didn't answer, his voice lost somewhere between his heart and stomach, both dropping by the second. Drake couldn't wait, just squeezed his boss's arm and took his leave. He was at his patrol car, radioing in his approach and making sure his men were doing the same, when the district attorney returned to his side. He was winded, pale…looking like a man with a bad case of death warmed over.

"Sir, you should get out of here yourself. Go to your office, better yet, go home. You can't do anything here except make yourself crazy."

"I—I can't. Not yet. But you can do me another favor…that might help me go easier: when you get there, look up Michael Axford? You know him."

"Ah. Yeah, yeah, Mike…I know 'em. He was hanging around the precinct last I checked, but sure, Counselor." He smiled sadly, " 'Nother friend of Reid's?"

Scanlon nodded tightly, pulling off his glasses to stare at the ever blackening cloud over the city. "Another friend."

"…We'll find Reid alive, Mr. Scanlon. Any guy with as many good friends pulling for him as he has ain't gonna be one to go out this way."

He had to walk away without speaking again, feeling flayed open, and not very much the leader of the law he was supposed to be. He should have gone harder, faster;  _ **outpaced**_ Britt instead of following. He should have slammed the bars down on Lao Yin, and caged his muscle with the rest of the animals. He should have collared Britt and Kato from the second Kato lost to Cānglóng . He should have made the two leave!

But he could never  _ **talk**_  to Britt, let alone stop him…he was—is— _ **is---**_ this driving force of willfulness, piledriving everything he has into whatever or whoever has drawn his ire. The Green Hornet never suffered fools. He'd have very little to do with someone he'd previously trusted turning coat.

_So what do I do now, Britt?_

Another lesser explosion rolled over the horizon, drawing eyes and ears to the source. A small group formed up to watch. Some were the walking wounded, others were family members come to find their loved ones, for better or worse. And then some were those who had felt the need to come down to help. Scanlon excused himself to the front of the pack. An older gentleman, his gray suit torn and bloodied, with a bandage around his head, nudged Scanlon to get his attention. He offered up an open pack of cigarettes. "Smoke?"

Scanlon accepted without hesitation, nodding gratefully. "I've been craving one all day."

The man flipped out a silver lighter, sharing the flame between them. The headrush from the first inhalation felt so damn good, Scanlon had to close his eyes and savor the flavor.

"Don't tell me this was the day you decided to quit?"

"No…no, thankfully. Actually quit a while ago, but…"

The man understood the trailing off, going back to the smoke filled horizon. "Yeah, I hear you."

Scanlon took a deep tug, settling his stomach and mind further, "Thanks…for this. I needed it."

"No problem. Name's Harrison, William Harrison." They shook hands amicably, "Frank—"

"—Scanlon, District Attorney." Harrison supplied knowingly, "I recognized you right off—voted for you last time, too."

"Oh. …'ppreciate it."

"…do you know, uh, what…?" He gestured to the horizon.

Scanlon flicked the buildup of ash off, swirling the butt in a flair of light blue smoke, "Not yet." he said in an unintentionally hard voice. "Working on it."

"I suppose you couldn't really tell me one way or the other, anyway. Am I right?"

"Close to."

Harrison took another two purposeful puffs before flicking the butt to the ground, stubbing it out, "Look, uh, maybe it's not my place for this, but…well, I was just down in Chinatown getting lunch when it went hell." He explained, "I parked my car where I always do so I can walk, like my wife tells me to." He shrugged, " …I didn't expect to get caught up in something like this, ever. Crazily enough, I'm not bitter or angry; just grateful to be alive. Whatever the hell this was, whoever the hell did it…I'm blaming  _ **them**_  for what _**they've**_  done, and nobody else." He half-smiled, "…hope you get my drift, Counselor."

The DA looked this stranger over, feeling the first lift of gloom since losing track of Britt, "Thank you." He whispered meaningfully.

Harrison fished his pack from his breast pocket to press it into the DA's hand. 'Keep it, you're gonna need it more than I do. Besides, my wife would kill me." The ironic grin he prompted one of Scanlon's own.

When he had gone, Scanlon tossed the gifted pack back to himself with a small chuckle. He stubbed his own butt under toe; one last look to the horizon. The smoke was now drifting to cover them. He covered his mouth, turned to go…and on the dropping of his gaze, he caught the shine of auburn from the back of the crowd. He peered over and around careening heads and necks for a better look. The tangled mat of strawberry covered features, but the dirty tatters of skirt and blouse, the tall lithe form…shoes missing but leggedness unaffected. Minus the cast on their arm, the bandaged cuts and scrapes, the sooty grayness: "…Ms. Case…"

He hurriedly side stepped the rustling crowd, excusing himself reflexively as he was bumped. He couldn't take his eyes off this unknown woman, hoping and pleading mentally with her to turn. He shuffled closer, maneuvering as he could until he was nearly on top of her. _**Still**_ she wouldn't turn, hawkishly focused on the distant disaster.

"Casey!"

Like his stomach did in turn, she spun hard about, shocked and thoroughly overcome to hear the name. Her effervescent eyes welled up, streaking clean a dusty face. She tried for excitement, she tried for exuberance, she tried for a laugh of pure happiness, but all she accomplished was a sobbing crumpling into his arms, "Frank…!"

Thank God…! His embrace lifted her off the ground. He held her as the other fathers and brothers and mothers and sisters he seen this day hold their recovered loved ones. It was futile and starved. The last thing in the world they could believe in…and hadn't, except beyond some crumb of hope. "Thank God…" He whispered, glasses fogged, but damn it all, what did he care? If she was alive, then…?! He sighed deeply, fought that tidal wave by focusing on what he had, not on what he didn't have.

His fingers soothingly combed through knotty strands of hair, "It's okay…it's okay." His voice grew stronger, "You cry, alright? Cry as much as you want. Get it all out! …I'm here, I've got you."

The pretenses and falsehoods of before were burning with the Daily Sentinel; in the ashes of Chinatown. It was _**change**_ of the headiest kind. A protective switch flipped with a palpable _swoosh_  through his bloodstream: This girl was _**family**_. Better than kin, better than the memories of his own.

Because this one had been _**forged**_.

The fire in the eye of the Dragon was one kind: powerful and hot. It whipped smoke and ash to blind, and hazarded an explosive pull, but it was not the same. The fires that had forged them had fanned out long ago, leaving behind a trail of love and loyalty in the face of uncertain future.

His reckoning dawned.

_I'll be whoever I have to be to keep my family safe._

Now Scanlon _**understood**_.

His hold around her shivering form doubled. "I've got you." he repeated softly, turning her away from the drifting smog, away from the horizon and its smudged skyline. Away from before and all the mistakes made. Away from kidding themselves they weren't in too deep. And back into the light of the truth:

Nothing would ever be the same again.


End file.
